THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


W.  D.  HOWELLS 


By    W.    D.    Howells 


ILLUSTRATED 


Copyright,  1893,  1899,  by  WILLIAM  DKAN  HOWELLS. 

All  rights  reserved. 


PS 


1901 


ILLUSTEATIONS. 


W.  D.  HOWELLS ...  Frontispiece. 

"WAS  THE  DAUGHTER  VERY  PRETTY?".      .      .      .  Facing  page     24 

"SHE'S  GOT  MONEY  ENOUGH" "        "50 

"  I'VE  MADE  UP  MY  MIND  TO  GO  TO  NEW  YORK  "  "        "       62 

"  I  DON'T  MIND  TELLING " "        "       74 

"MY  MOTHER  HAD  INDIAN  BLOOD " "        "94 

"SHE   KNEW  THAT   HE   WAS   IGNORING   HER   BE 
HAVIOR"     "           "144 

"THEY  HAD  TEA  TOGETHER  IN  THE  RESTAURANT 

OF  ONE  OF  NEW  YORK'S  VAST  HOTELS"    .  "        "     296 


612659 

ENGLISH 


THE   COAST   OF   BOHEMIA. 


I. 

THE  forty-sixth  annual  fair  of  the  Pymantoning 
County  Agricultural  Society  was  in  its  second  day. 
The  trotting-matches  had  begun,  and  the  vast  ma 
jority  of  the  visitors  had  abandoned  the  other  features 
of  the  exhibition  for  this  supreme  attraction.  They 
clustered  four  or  five  deep  along  the  half-mile  of 
railing  that  enclosed  the  track,  and  sat  sweltering  in 
the  hot  September  sun,  on  the  benching  of  the  grand 
stand  that  flanked  a  stretch  of  the  course.  Boys 
selling  lemonade  and  peanuts,  and  other  boys  with 
the  score  of  the  races,  made  their  way  up  and  down 
the  seats  with  shrill  cries ;  now  and  then  there  was 
a  shriek  of  girls'  laughter  from  a  group  of  young 
people  calling  to  some  other  group,  or  struggling  for 
a  programme  caught  back  and  forth ;  the  young 
fellows  shouted  to  each  other  jokes  that  were  lost  in 

mid-air  ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  the  crowd  was  a  very 
1 


2         .  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

silent  one,  grimly  intent  upon  the  rival  sulkies  as 
they  flashed  by  and  lost  themselves  in  the  clouds  that 
thickened  over  the  distances  of  the  long,  dusty  loop. 
Here  and  there  some  one  gave  a  shout  as  a  horse 
broke,  or  settled  down  to  his  work  under  the  guttural 
snarl  of  his  driver ;  at  times  the  whole  throng  burst 
into  impartial  applause  as  a  horse  gained  or  lost  a 
length;  but  the  quick  throb  of  the  hoofs  on  the 
velvety  earth  and  the  whir  of  the  flying  wheels  were 
the  sounds  that  chiefly  made  themselves  heard. 

The  spectacle  had  the  importance  which  multitude 
gives,  and  Ludlow  found  in  it  the  effects  which  he 
hoped  to  get  again  in  his  impression.  He  saw  the 
deep  purples  which  he  looked  to  see  with  eyes  trained 
by  the  French  masters  of  his  school  to  find  them,  and 
the  indigo  blues,  the  intense  greens,  the  rainbow 
oranges  and  scarlets ;  and  he  knew  just  how  he 
should  give  them.  In  the  light  of  that  vast  after 
noon  sky,  cloudless,  crystalline  in  its  clearness,  no 
brilliancy  of  rendering  could  be  too  bold. 

If  he  had  the  courage  of  his  convictions,  this  purely 
American  event  could  be  reported  on  his  canvas  with 
all  its  native  character ;  and  yet  it  could  be  made  to 
appeal  to  the  enlightened  eye  with  the  charm  of  a 
French  subject,  and  impressionism  could  be  fully 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  3 

justified  of  its  follower  in  Pymantoning  as  well  as  in 
Paris.  That  golden  dust  along  the  track ;  the  level 
tops  of  the  buggies  drawn  up  within  its  ellipse,  and  the 
groups  scattered  about  in  gypsy  gayety  on  the  grass 
there ;  the  dark  blur  of  men  behind  the  barrier ;  the 
women,  with  their  bright  hats  and  parasols,  massed 
flower-like,  —  all  made  him  long  to  express  them  in 
lines  and  dots  and  breadths  of  pure  color.  He  had 
caught  the  vital  effect  of  the  whole,  and  he  meant  to 
interpret  it  so  that  its  truth  should  be  felt  by  all  who 
had  received  the  light  of  the  new  faith  in  painting, 
who  believed  in  the  prismatic  colors  as  in  the  ten  com 
mandments,  and  who  hoped  to  be  saved  by  tone-con 
trasts.  For  the  others,  Ludlow  was  at  that  day  too 
fanatical  an  impressionist  to  care.  He  owed  a  duty  to 
France  no  less  than  to  America,  and  he  wished  to  fulfil 
it  in  a  picture  which  should  at  once  testify  to  the  ex 
cellence  of  the  French  method  and  the  American  ma 
terial.  At  twenty-two,  one  is  often  much  more  secure 
and  final  in  one's  conclusions  than  one  is  afterwards. 

He  was  vexed  that  a  lingering  doubt  of  the  subject 
had  kept  him  from  bringing  a  canvas  with  him  at  once, 
and  recording  his  precious  first  glimpses  of  it.  But  he 
meant  to  come  to  the  trotting-match  the  next  day 
again,  and  then  he  hoped  to  get  back  to  his  primal 


4  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

impression  of  the  scene,  now  so  vivid  in  his  mind. 
He  made  his  way  down  the  benches,  and  out  of 
the  enclosure  of  the  track.  He  drew  a  deep  breath, 
full  of  the  sweet  smell  of  the  bruised  grass,  forsaken 
now  by  nearly  all  the  feet  that  had  trodden  it.  A 
few  old  farmers,  who  had  failed  to  get  places  along 
the  railing  and  had  not  cared  to  pay  for  seats  on 
the  stand,  were  loitering  about,  followed  by  their 
baffled  and  disappointed  wives.  The  men  occasion 
ally  stopped  at  the  cattle-pens,  but  it  was  less  to 
look  at  the  bulls  and  boars  and  rams  which  had  taken 
the  premiums,  and  wore  cards  or  ribbons  certifying 
the  fact,  than  to  escape  a  consciousness  of  their  part 
ners,  harassingly  taciturn  or  voluble  in  their  reproach. 
A  number  of  these  embittered  women  brokenly 
fringed  the  piazza  of  the  fair-house,  and  Ludlow  made 
his  way  toward  them  with  due  sympathy  for  their 
poor  little  tragedy,  so  intelligible  to  him  through  the 
memories  of  his  own  country-bred  youth.  He  fol 
lowed  with  his  pity  those  who  sulked  away  through 
the  deserted  aisles  of  the  building,  and  nursed  their 
grievance  among  the  prize  fruits  and  vegetables,  and 
the  fruits  and  vegetables  that  had  not  taken  the  prizes. 
They  were  more  censorious  than  they  would  have  been 
perhaps  if  they  had  not  been  defeated  themselves ; 


THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA.  0 

he  heard  them  dispute  the  wisdom  of  most  of  the 
awards  as  the  shoutings  and  clappings  from  the  race 
track  penetrated  the  lonely  hall.  They  creaked 
wearily  up  and  down  in  their  new  shoes  or  best 
shoes,  and  he  knew  how  they  wished  themselves  at 
home  and  in  bed,  and  wondered  why  they  had  ever 
been  such  fools  as  to  come,  anyway.  Occasionally, 
one  of  their  husbands  lagged  in,  as  if  in  search  of  his 
wife,  but  kept  at  a  safe  distance,  after  seeing  her,  or 
hung  about  with  a  group  of  other  husbands,  who 
could  not  be  put  to  shame  or  suffering  as  they  might 
if  they  had  appeared  singly. 


n. 

LUDLOW  believed  that  if  the  right  fellow  ever  came 
to  the  work,  he  could  get  as  much  pathos  out  of  our  farm 
folks  as  Millet  got  out  of  his  Barbizon  peasants.  But 
the  fact  was  that  he  was  not  the  fellow  ;  he  wanted  to 
paint  beauty  not  pathos ;  and  he  thought,  so  far  as  he 
thought  ethically  about  it,  that  the  Americans  needed 
to  be  shown  the  festive  and  joyous  aspects  of  their 
common  life.  To  discover  and  to  represent  these  was 
his  pleasure  as  an  artist,  and  his  duty  as  a  citizen. 
He  suspected,  though,  that  the  trotting-match  was  the 
only  fact  of  the  Pyrnantoning  County  Fair  that  could 
be  persuaded  to  lend  itself  to  his  purpose.  Certainly, 
there  was  nothing  in  the  fair-house,  with  those  poor, 
dreary  old  people  straggling  through  it,  to  gladden  an 
artistic  conception.  Agricultural  implements  do  not 
group  effectively,  or  pose  singly  with  much  pictu- 
resqueness ;  tall  stalks  of  corn,  mammoth  squashes, 
huge  apples  and  potatoes  want  the  beauty  and  quality 
that  belong  to  them  out  of  doors,  when  they  are 
gathered  into  the  sections  of  a  county  fair-house ; 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  7 

piles  of  melons  fail  of  their  poetry  on  a  wooden  floor, 
and  heaps  of  grapes  cannot  assert  themselves  in  a 
very  bacchanal  profusion  against  the  ignominy  of 
being  spread  upon  long  tables  and  ticketed  with  the 
names  of  their  varieties  and  exhibitors. 

Ludlow  glanced  at  them,  to  right  and  left,  as  he 
walked  through  the  long,  barnlike  building,  and  took 
in  with  other  glances  the  inadequate  decorations  of  the 
graceless  interior.  His  roving  eye  caught  the  letter 
ing  over  the  lateral  archways,  and  with  a  sort  of 
contemptuous  compassion  he  turned  into  the  Fine  Arts 
Department. 

The  fine  arts  were  mostly  represented  by  photo 
graphs  and  crazy  quilts ;  but  there  were  also  tam 
bourines  and  round  brass  plaques  painted  with  flowers, 
and  little  satin  banners  painted  with  birds  or  autumn 
leaves,  and  gilt  rolling-pins  with  vines.  There  were 
medley-pictures  contrived  of  photographs  cut  out  and 
grouped  together  in  novel  and  unexpected  relations ; 
and  there  were  set  about  divers  patterns  and  pretences 
in  keramics,  as  the  decoration  of  earthen  pots  and 
jars  was  called.  Besides  these  were  sketches  in  oil 
and  charcoal,  which  Ludlow  found  worse  than  the 
more  primitive  things,  with  their  second-hand  chic 
picked  up  in  a  tenth-rate  school.  He  began  to  ask 


8  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

himself  whether  people  tasteless  enough  to  produce 
these  inanities  and  imagine  them  artistic,  could  form 
even  the  subjects  of  art ;  he  began  to  have  doubts  of 
his  impression  of  the  trotting-match,  its  value,  its  pos 
sibility  of  importance.  The  senseless  ugliness  of  the 
things  really  hurt  him  :  his  worship  of  beauty  was  a 
sort  of  religion,  and  their  badness  was  a  sort  of  blas 
phemy.  He  could  not  laugh  at  them ;  he  wished  he 
could  ;  and  his  first  impulse  was  to  turn  and  escape 
from  the  Fine  Arts  Department,  and  keep  what  little 
faith  in  the  artistic  future  of  the  country  he  had  been 
able  to  get  together  during  his  long  sojourn  out  of  it. 
Since  his  return  he  had  made  sure  of  the  feeling  for 
color  and  form  with  which  his  country-women  dressed 
themselves.  There  was  no  mistake  about  that ;  even 
here,  in  the  rustic  heart  of  the  continent  he  had  seen 
costumes  which  had  touch  and  distinction ;  and  it 
could  not  be  that  the  instinct  which  they  sprang  from 
should  go  for  nothing  in  the  arts  supposed  higher  than 
mantua-making  and  millinery.  The  village  girls  whom 
he  saw  so  prettily  gowned  and  picturesquely  hatted  on 
the  benches  out  there  by  the  race-course,  could  it  have 
been  they  who  committed  these  atrocities  ?  Or  did 
these  come  up  from  yet  deeper  depths  of  the  country, 
where  the  vague,  shallow  talk  about  art  going  on  for 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

the  past  decade  was  having  its  first  crude  effect  ?  Lud- 
low  was  exasperated  as  well  as  pained,  for  he  knew 
that  the  pretty  frocks  and  hats  expressed  a  love  of 
dressing  prettily,  which  was  honest  and  genuine 
enough,  while  the  unhappy  effects  about  him  could 
spring  only  from  a  hollow  vanity  far  lower  than  a 
woman's  wish  to  be  charming.  It  was  not  an  innate 
impulse  which  produced  them,  but  a  sham  ambition, 
implanted  from  without,  and  artificially  stimulated  by 
the  false  and  fleeting  mood  of  the  time.  They  must 
really  hamper  the  growth  of  aesthetic  knowledge  among 
people  who  were  not  destitute  of  the  instinct. 

He  exaggerated  the  importance  of  the  fact  with  the 
sensitiveness  of  a  man  to  whom  aesthetic  cultivation 
was  all-important.  It  appeared  to  him  a  far  greater 
evil  than  it  was  ;  it  was  odious  to  him,  like  a  vice ;  it 
was  almost  a  crime.  He  spent  a  very  miserable  time 
in  the  Fine  Arts  Department  of  the  Pymantoning 
County  Agricultural  Fair ;  and  in  a  kind  of  horrible 
fascination  he  began  to  review  the  collection  in  detail, 
to  guess  its  causes  in  severalty  and  to  philosophize 
its  lamentable  consequences. 


III. 

IN  this  process  Ludlow  discovered  that  there  was 
more  of  the  Fine  Arts  Department  than  he  had  sup 
posed  at  first.  He  was  aware  of  some  women  who 
had  come  into  the  next  aisle  or  section,  and  presently 
he  overheard  fragments  of  their  talk. 

A  girl's  voice  said  passionately :  "  I  don't  care  !  I 
shan't  leave  them  here  for  folks  to  make  remarks 
about !  I  knew  they  wouldn't  take  the  premium,  and 
I  hope  you're  satisfied  now,  mother." 

"  Well,  you're  a  very  silly  child,"  came  in  an  older 
voice,  suggestive  of  patience  and  amiability.  "  Don't 
tear  them,  anyway  !  " 

"  I  shall !     I  don't  care  if  I  tear  them  all  to  pieces." 

There  was  a  sound  of  quick  steps,  and  of  the  angry 
swirl  of  skirts,  and  the  crackling  and  rending  of  paper. 

"  There,  now  ! "  said  the  older  voice.  "  You've 
dropped  one." 

"  I  don't  care !  I  hope  they'll  trample  it  under 
their  great  stupid  hoofs." 

The  paper,  whatever  it  was,  came  skating  out  under 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  11 

the  draped  tabling  in  the  section  where  Ludlow  stood, 
arrested  in  his  sad  employment  by  the  unseen  drama, 
and  lay  at  his  feet.  He  picked  it  up,  and  he  had  only 
time  to  glance  at  it  before  he  found  himself  confronted 
by  a  fiercely  tearful  young  girl  who  came  round  the 
corner  of  his  section,  and  suddenly  stopped  at  sight  of 
him.  With  one  hand  she  pressed  some  crumpled 
sheets  of  paper  against  her  breast ;  the  other  she 
stretched  toward  Ludlow. 

"  Oh !  will  you  "  —  she  began,  and  then  she  faltered ; 
and  as  she  turned  her  little  head  aside  for  a  backward 
look  over  her  shoulder,  she  made  him,  somehow,  think 
of  a  hollyhock,  by  the  tilt  of  her  tallj  sjrmj^oung^fig- 
ure^  and  by  the  colors  of  her  hat  from  which  her  face 
flowered ;  no  doubt  the  deep-crimson  silk  waist  she  wore, 
with  its  petal-edged  ruffle  flying  free  down  her  breast, 
had  something  to  do  with  his  fantastic  notion.  She 
was  a  brunette,  with  the  lightness  and  delicacy  that 
commonly  go  with  the  beauty  of  a  blonde.  She  could 
not  have  been  more  than  fifteen.;  her  skirts  had  not 
yet  matured  to  the  full  womanly  length  ;  she  was  still 
a  child. 

A  handsome,  mild,  middle-aged  woman  appeared 
beside  the  stormy  young  thing,  and  said  in  the  voice 
which  Ludlow  had  already  heard,  "  Well,  Cornelia !  " 


12  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

She  seemed  to  make  more  account  than  the  girl  made 
of  the  young  fellow's  looks.  He  was  of  the  medium 
height  for  a  man,  but  he  was  so  slight  that  he  seemed 
of  lower  stature,  and  he  eked  out  an  effect  of  distinc 
tion  by  brushing  his  little  moustache  up  sharply  at  the 
corners  in  a  fashion  he  had  learned  in  France,  and  by 
wearing  a  little  black  dot  of  an  imperial.  His  brow 
was  habitually  darkened  by  a  careworn  frown,  which 
came  from  deep  and  anxious  thinking  about  the  princi 
ples  and  the  practice  of  art.  He  was  very  well  dressed, 
and  he  carried  himself  with  a  sort  of  worldly  splendor 
which  did  not  intimidate  the  lady  before  him.  In 
the  country  women  have  no  more  apprehension  of  men 
who  are  young  and  stylish  and  good-looking  than  they 
have  in  the  city  ;  they  rather  like  them  to  be  so,  and 
meet  them  with  confidence  in  any  casual  encounter. 

The  lady  said,  "  Oh,  thank  you,"  as  Ludlow  came 
up  to  the  girl  with  the  paper,  and  then  she  laughed 
with  no  particular  intention,  and  said,  "  It's  one  of  my 
daughter's  drawings." 

"  Oh,  indeed ! "  said  Ludlow,  with  a  quick  percep 
tion  of  the  mother's  pride  in  it,  and  of  all  the  poten 
tialities  of  prompt  intimacy.  "  It's  very  good." 

"  Well,  /  think  so,"  said  the  lady,  while  the  girl 
darkled  and  bridled  in  young  helplessness.  If  she 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  13 

knew  that  her  mother  ought  not  to  be  offering  a  stran 
ger  her  confidence  like  that,  she  did  not  know  what 
to  do  about  it.  "  She  was  just  going  to  take  them 
home,"  said  the  mother  vaguely. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Ludlow.  "  I  seem  to  be  a  day 
after  the  fair,  as  far  as  they're  concerned." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  mother,  with  the 
same  amiable  vagueness.  She  had  some  teeth  gone, 
and  when  she  smiled  she  tried  to  hide  their  absence 
on  the  side  next  Ludlow ;  but  as  she  was  always 
smiling  she  did  not  succeed  perfectly.  She  looked 
doubtfully  at  her  daughter,  in  the  manner  of  mothers 
whom  no  severity  of  snubbing  can  teach  that  their 
daughters  when  well-grown  girls  can  no  longer  be 
treated  as  infants.  "  I  don't  know  as  you'd  think  you 
had  lost  much.  We  didn't  expect  they  would  take 
the  premium,  a  great  deal." 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  said  Ludlow.  "  The  compe 
tition  was  bad  enough." 

The  mother  seemed  to  divine  a  compliment  in  this 
indefinite  speech.  She  said :  "  Well,  I  don't  see  my 
self  why  they  didn't  take  it." 

"There  was  probably  no  one  to  feel  how  much 
better  they  were,"  said  Ludlow. 

"Well,  that's  wnat  /think,"  said  the  mother,  "and 


14  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

it's  what  I  tell  her."  She  stood  looking  from  Ludlow 
to  her  daughter  and  back,  and  now  she  ventured,  see 
ing  him  so  intent  on  the  sketch  he  still  held,  "  You  an 
artist?" 

"  A  student  of  art,"  said  Ludlow,  with  the  effect  of 
uncovering  himself  in  a  presence. 

The  mother  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it  appar 
ently  ;  she  said  blankly,  "  Oh !  "  and  then  added  im 
pressively,  to  her  daughter :  "  Why  don't  you  show 
them  to  him,  Cornelia  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  it  a  great  favor,"  said  Ludlow,  in 
tending  to  be  profoundly  respectful.  But  he  must 
have  overdone  it.  The  girl  majestically  gave  her  draw 
ings  to  her  mother,  and  marched  out  of  the  aisle. 

Ludlow  ignored  her  behavior,  as  if  it  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  question,  and  began  to  look  at  the  draw 
ings,  one  after  another,  with-  various  inarticulate  notes 
of  comment  imitated  from  a  great  French  master,  and 
with  various  foreign  phrases,  such  as  "  Bon  !  Bon ! 
Pasmauvais!  Joli!  Ohio!"  He  seemed  to  waken 
from  them  to  a  consciousness  of  the  mother,  and 
returned  to  English.  "  They  are  very  interesting. 
Has  she  had  instruction  ?  " 

"  Only  in  the  High  School,  here.  And  she  didn't 
seem  to  care  any  for  that.  She  seems  to  want  to 
work  more  by  herself." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  15 

"  That's  wrong,"  said  Ludlow,  "  though  she's  prob 
ably  right  about  the  High  School." 

The  mother  made  bold  to  ask,  "  Where  are  you 
taking  lessons  ?  " 

"  I  ?  "  said  Ludlow,  dreamily.     "  Oh  !  everywhere." 

"  I  thought,  perhaps,"  the  mother  began,  and  she 
stopped,  and  then  resumed,  "  How  many  lessons  do 
you  expect  to  take  ?  " 


IV. 

LUDLOW  descended  from  the  high  horse  which  he 
saw  it  was  really  useless  for  him  to  ride  in  that  simple 
presence.  "  I  didn't  mean  that  I  was  a  student  of  art 
in  that  sense,  exactly.  I'  suppose  I'm  a  painter  of 
some  sort.  I  studied  in  Paris,  and  I'm  working  in 
New  York  —  if  that's  what  you  mean." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  lady,  as  if  she  did  not  know  quite 
what  she  meant. 

Ludlow  still  remained  in  possession  of  the  sketches, 
and  he  now  looked  at  them  with  a  new  knot  between 
his  eyebrows.  He  had  known  at  the  first  glance,  with 
the  perception  of  one  who  has  done  things  in  any 
art,  that  here  was  the  possibility  of  things  in  his  art, 
and  he  had  spoken  from  a  generous  and  compassionate 
impulse,  from  his  recognition  of  the  possibility,  and 
from  his  sympathy  with  the  girl  in  her  defeat.  Now 
his  conscience  began  to  prick  him.  He  asked  himself 
whether  he  had  any  right  to  encourage  her,  whether 
he  ought  not  rather  to  warn  her.  He  asked  her 
mother :  "  Has  she  been  doing  this  sort  of  thing 
long  ?  " 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  17 

"  Ever  since  she  was  a  little  bit  of  a  thing,"  said  the 
mother.  "You  might  say  she's  been  doing  it  ever 
since  she  could  do  anything ;  and  she  ain't  but  about 
fifteen,  now.  Well,  she's  going  on  sixteen,"  the 
mother  added,  scrupulously.  "  She  was  born  the 
third  of  July,  and  now  it's  the  beginning  of  Septem 
ber.  So  she's  just  fifteen  years  and  a  little  over  two 
months.  I  suppose  she's  too  young  to  commence  tak 
ing  lessons  regularly  ?  " 

"  No  one  would  be  too  young  for  that,"  said  Lud- 
low,  austerely,  with  his  eyes  on  the  sketch.  He  lifted 
them,  and  bent  them  frankly  and  kindly  on  the  moth 
er's  face.  "  And  were  you  thinking  of  her  going  on  ?  " 
The  mother  questioned  him  for  his  exact  meaning  with 
the  sweet  unwisdom  of  her  smile.  "  Did  you  think  of 
her  becoming  an  artist,  a  painter  ?  " 

"Well,"  she  returned,  "  I  presume  she  would  have 
as  good  a  chance  as  anybody,  if  she  had  the  talent 
for  it." 

"  She  has  the  talent  for  it,"  said  Ludlow,  "  and  she 
would  have  a  better  chance  than  most  —  that's  very 
little  to  say  —  but  it's  a  terribly  rough  road." 

"  Yes,"  the  mother  faltered,  smiling. 

"  Yes.  It's  a  hard  road  for  a  man,  and  it's  doubly 
hard  for  a  wouiau.  It  means  work  that  breaks  the 


18  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

back  and  wrings  the  brain.  It  means  for  a  woman, 
tears,  and  hysterics,  and  nervous  prostration,  and  in 
sanity  —  some  of  them  go  wild  over  it.  The  conditions 
are  bad  air,  and  long  hours,  and  pitiless  criticism ;  and 
the  rewards  are  slight  and  uncertain.  One  out  of  a 
hundred  comes  to  anything  at  all ;  one  out  of  a  thou 
sand  to  anything  worth  while.  New  York  is  swarming 
with  girl  art-students.  They  mostly  live  in  poor 
boarding-houses,  and  some  of  them  actually  suffer 
from  hunger  and  cold.  For  men  the  profession  is 
hazardous,  arduous ;  for  women  it's  a  slow  anguish 
of  endeavor  and  disappointment.  Most  shop-girls 
earn  more  than  most  fairly  successful  art-students  for 
years ;  most  servant-girls  fare  better.  If  you  are 
rich,  and  your  daughter  wishes  to  amuse  herself  by 
studying  art,  it's  all  very  well ;  but  even  then  I 
wouldn't  recommend  it  as  an  amusement.  If  you're 
poor  " 

"  I  presume,"  the  mother  interrupted,  "  that  she 
would  be  self-supporting  by  the  time  she  had  taken 
six  months'  lessons,  and  I  guess  she  could  get  along 
till  then." 

Ludlow  stared  at  the  amiably  smiling  creature. 
From  her  unruffled  composure  his  warning  had  appar 
ently  fallen  like  water  from  the  back  of  a  goose.  He 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  19 

saw  that  it  would  be  idle  to  go  on,  and  he  stopped 
short  and  waited  for  her  to  speak  again. 

"  If  she  was  to  go  to  New  York  to  take  lessons,  how 
do  you  think  she'd  better  "  —  She  seemed  not  to 
know  enough  of  the  situation  to  formulate  her  question 
farther.  He  had  pity  on  her  ignorance,  though  he 
doubted  whether  he  ought  to  have. 

"  Oh,  go  into  the  Synthesis,"  he  said  briefly. 

"  The  Synthesis  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  the  Synthesis  of  Art  Studies  ;  it's  the  only 
thing.  The  work  is  hard,  but  it's  thorough;  the 
training's  excellent,  if  you  live  through  it." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  she'd  live  through  it,"  said  the  mother 
with  a  laugh.  She  added,  "  I  don't  know  as  I  know 
just  what  you  mean  by  the  Synthesis  of  Art  Studies." 

"  It's  a  society  that  the  art-students  have  formed. 
They  have  their  own  building,  and  casts,  and  models ; 
the  principal  artists  have  classes  among  them.  You 
submit  a  sketch,  and  if  you  get  in  you  work  away  till 
you  drop,  if  you're  in  earnest,  or  till  you're  bored,  if 
you're  amusing  yourself."  v 

"  And  should  you  think,"  said  the  mother  gesturing 
toward  him  with  the  sketches  in  her  hand,  "  that  she 
could  get  in  ?  " 

"I  think   she  could,"  said   Ludlow,  and  he  acted 


20  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

upon  a  sudden  impulse.  He  took  a  card  from  his 
pocketbook,  and  gave  it  to  the  mother.  "  If  you'll 
look  me  up  when  you  come  to  New  York,  or  let  me 
know,  I  may  be  of  use  to  you,  and  I  shall  be  very 
glad  to  put  you  in  the  way  of  getting  at  the  Syn 
thesis." 

"Thanks,"  the  mother  drawled  with  her  eyes  on 
the  card.  She  probably  had  no  clear  sense  of  the 
favor  done  her.  She  lifted  her  eyes  and  smiled  on 
Ludlow  with  another  kind  of  intelligence.  "  You're 
visiting  at  Mrs.  Burton's." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ludlow,  remembering  after  a  moment 
of  surprise  how  pervasive  the  fact  of  a  stranger's 
presence  in  a  village  is.  "  Mr.  Burton  can  tell  you 
who  I  am,"  he  added  in  some  impatience  with  her 
renewed  scrutiny  of  his  card. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,"  she  said,  and  she  put  it  in  her 
pocket,  and  then  she  began  to  drift  away  a  little. 
"  Well,  I'm  sure  I'm  much  obliged  to  you."  She 
hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  she  said,  "  Well,  good 
afternoon." 

"  Good-by,"  said  Ludlow,  and  he  lifted  his  hat  and 
stood  bowing  her  out  of  the  Fine  Arts  Department, 
while  she  kept  her  eyes  on  him  to  the  last  with  admi 
ration  and  approval. 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  21 

"  Well,  I  declare,  Cornelia,"  she  burst  out  to  her 
daughter,  whom  she  found  glowering  at  the  agricultural 
implements,  "that  is  about  the  nicest  fellow!  Do 
you  know  what  he's  done  ?  "  She  stopped  and  began 
a  search  for  her  pocket,  which  ended  successfully. 
"He's  given  me  his  name,  and  told  me  just  what 
you're  to  do.  And  when  you  get  to  New  York,  if  you 
ever  do,  you  can  go  right  straight  to  him." 

She  handed  Ludlow's  card  to  the  girl,  who  instantly 
tore  it  to  pieces  without  looking  at  it.  "  I'll  never  go 
to  him  —  horrid,  mean,  cross  old  thing  !  And  you  go 
and  talk  about  me  to  a  perfect  stranger  as  if  I  were  a 
baby.  And  now  he'll  go  and  laugh  at  you  with  the 
Burtons,  and  they'll  say  it's  just  like  you  to  say  every 
thing  that  comes  into  your  head,  that  way,  and  think 
everybody's  as  nice  as  they  seem.  But  he  isn't  nice ! 
He's  horrid,  and  conceited,  and  —  and  —  hateful.  And 
I  shall  never  study  art  anywhere.  And  I'd  die  before 
I  asked  him  to  help  me.  He  was  just  making  fun  of 
you  all  the  time,  and  anybody  but  you  would  see  it, 
mother !  Comparing  me  to  a  hired  girl !  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  he  did  that,  Cornelia,"  said  the 
mother  with  some  misgiving.  "I  presume  he  may 
have  been  a  little  touched  up  by  your  pictures,  and 
wanted  to  put  me  down  about  them  "  — 


22  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother,  mother  !  "  The  girl  broko 
into  tears  over  the  agricultural  implements.  "  They 
were  the  dust  under  his  feet." 

"  Why,  Cornelia,  how  you  talk  !  " 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk,  mother!  I've  asked 
you  a  thousand  times,  if  I've  asked  you  once,  not  to 
talk  about  me  with  anybody,  and  here  you  go  and  tell 
everything  that  you  can  think  of  to  a  person  that  you 
never  saw  before." 

"What  did  I  tell  him  about  you?"  asked  her 
mother,  with  the  uncertainty  of  ladies  who  say  a  great 
deal. 

"  You  told  him  how  old  I  was  almost  to  a  day !  " 

"  Oh,  well,  that  wasn't  anything !  I  saw  he'd  got 
to  know  if  he  was  to  give  any  opinion  about  your 
going  on  that  was  worth  having." 

"  It'll  be  all  over  town,  to-morrow.  Well,  never 
mind !  It's  the  last  time  you'll  ever  have  a  chance  to 
do  it.  I'll  never,  never,  never  touch  a  pencil  to  draw 
with  again  !  Never !  You've  done  it  now,  mother ! 
/don't  care!  I'll  help  you  with  your  work,  all  you 
want,  but  don't  ever  ask  me  to  draw  a  single  thing 
after  this.  I  guess  he  wouldn't  have  much  to  say 
about  the  style  of  a  bonnet,  or  set  of  a  dress,  if  il 
wrong ! " 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  23 

The  girl  swept  out  of  the  building  with  tragedy- 
queen  strides  that  refused  to  adjust  themselves  to  the 
lazy,  lounging  pace  of  her  mother,  and  carried  her 
homeward  so  swiftly  that  she  had  time  to  bang  the 
front  gate  and  the  front  door,  and  her  own  room  door 
and  lock  it,  and  be  crying  on  the  bed  with  her  face  in 
the  pillow,  long  before  her  mother  reached  the  house. 
The  mother  wore  a  face  of  unruffled  serenity,  and  as 
there  was  no  one  near  to  see,  she  relaxed  her  vigilance, 
and  smiled  with  luxurious  indifference  to  the  teeth  she 
had  lost. 


V. 

LUDLOW  found  his  friend  Burton  smoking  on  his 
porch  when  he  came  back  from  the  fair,  and  watch 
ing  with  half-shut  eyes  the  dust  that  overhung  the 
street.  Some  of  the  farmers  were  already  beginning 
to  drive  home,  and  their  wheels  sent  up  the  pulverous 
clouds  which  the  western  sun  just  tinged  with  red ; 
Burton  got  the  color  under  the  lower  boughs  of  the 
maple  grove  of  his  deep  door-yard. 

"  Well,"  he  called  out,  in  a  voice  expressive  of  the 
temperament  which  kept  him  content  with  his  modest 
fortune  and  his  village  circumstance,  when  he  might 
have  made  so  much  more  and  spent  so  much  more  in 
the  world  outside,  "  did  you  get  your  picture?  " 

Ludlow  was  only  half-way  up  the  walk  from  the 
street  when  the  question  met  him,  and  he  waited  to 
reach  the  piazza  steps  before  he  answered. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  think  I've  got  it."  By  this  time  Mrs. 
Burton  had  appeared  at  the  hall  door-way,  and  stood 
as  if  to  let  him  decide  whether  he  would  come  into 
the  house,  or  join  her  husband  outside.  He  turned 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  2H 

aside  to  take  a  chair  near  Burton's,  tilted  against  the 
wall,  but  he  addressed  himself  to  her. 

"  Mrs.  Burton,  who  is  rather  a  long-etrung,  easy 
going,  good-looking,  middle-aged  lady,  with  a  daughter 
about  fifteen  years  old,  extremely  pretty  and  rather 
peppery,  who  draws  ?  " 

Mrs.  Burton  at  once  came  out,  and  sat  sidewise  in 
the  hammock,  facing  the  two  men. 

"  How  were  they  dressed  ?  " 

Ludlow  told  as  well  as  he  could ;  he  reserved  his 
fancy  of  the  girl's  being  like  a  hollyhock. 

"  Was  the  daughter  pretty  ?  " 

"  Very  pretty." 

"Dark?" 

"  Yes,  «  all  that's  best  of  dark  and  bright.'  " 

"  Were  they  both  very  graceful  ?  " 

"Very  graceful  indeed." 

"  Why  it  must  be  Mrs.  Sauuders.  Where  did  you 
see  them  ?  " 

<k  In  the  Art  Department." 

"  Yes.  She  came  to  ask  me  whether  I  would 
exhibit  some  of  Cornelia's  drawings,  if  I  were  she." 

"  And  you  told  her  you  would  ? "  her  husband 
asked,  taking  his  pipe  out  for  the  purpose. 

"  Of  course  I  did.  That  was  what  she  wished  me 
to  tell  her." 


26  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

Burton  turned  to  Ludlow.  "  Had  they  taken  many 
premiums  ?  " 

"  No ;  the  premiums  had  been  bestowed  on  the 
crazy  quilts  and  the  medley  pictures  —  what  extra 
ordinarily  idiotic  inventions !  —  and  Miss  Saunders 
was  tearing  down  her  sketches  in  the  next  section. 
One  of  them  slipped  through  on  the  floor,  and  they 
came  round  after  it  to  where  I  was." 

"  And  so  you  got  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Saunders  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Burton. 

"No.  But  I  got  intimate,"  said  Ludlow.  "I 
sympathized  with  her,  and  she  advised  with  me  about 
her  daughter's  art-education." 

"  Wh»t  did  you  Advise  her  to  do  ?  "  asked  Burtop. 

"  Not  to  hAY^Jier  artHeduca^ed/' 

"WJbgr«  don't  yoq  think  she  has  talent?"  Iftra. 
Burton  demanded,  with  a  touch  of  resentment. 

"  Oh,  yes.  She  has  beauty,  too.  Nothing  is  oom- 
moner  than  the  talent,  and  beauty  of  .American  girls. 
But  they'd  better  trust  to  their  beauty." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  with  spirit. 

"  You  can  see  how  she's  advised  Mrs.  Saunders," 
said  Burton,  winking  the  eye  next  Ludlow. 

"  Well,  you  mustn't  be  vexed  with  me,  Mrs.  Bur 
ton,"  Ludlow  replied  to  her.  "I  don't  think  she'll 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  27 

take  my  advice,  especially  as  I  put  it  in  the  form  of 
warning.  I  told  her  how  hard  the  girl  would  have  to 
work :  but  I  don't  think  she  quite  understood.  I 
told  her  she  had  talent,  too ;  and  she  did  understand 
that ;  there  was  something  uncommon  in  the  child's 
work;  sonii'ilmiu — different,  Who  are  they,  Mrs. 
Burton  ?  " 

"Isn't  there  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Burton.  "  I'm  glad  you 
told  the  poor  thing  that.  I  thought  they'd  take  the 
premium.  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  her  daugh 
ter.  Mrs.  Saunders  must  have  been  awfully  disap 
pointed." 

"  She  didn't  seem  to  suffer  much,"  Ludlow  sug 
gested. 

"No,"  Mrs.  Burton  admitted,  "she  doesn't  suffer 
much  about  anything.  If  she  did  she  would  have 
been  dead  long  ago.  First,  her  husband  blown  up  by 
his  saw-mill  boiler,  and  then  one  son  killed  in  a  rail 
road  accident,  and  another  taken  down  with  pneu 
monia  almost  the  same  day  !  And  she  goes  on,  smil 
ing  in  the  face  of  death  "  — 

"  And  looking  out  that  he  doesn't  see  how  many 
teeth  she's  lost,"  Burton  prompted. 

Ludlow  laughed  at  the  accuracy  of  the  touch. 

Mrs.  Burton  retorted,  "  Why  shouldn't  she  ?     Her 


28  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA, 

good  looks  and  her  good  nature  are  about  all  she  has 
left  in  the  world,  except  this  daughter." 

"  Are  they  very  poor  ?  "  asked  Ludlow,  gently. 

"Oh,  nobody's  very  poor  in  Pymantoning"  said 
Mrs.  Burton.  "  And  Mrs.  Saunders  has  her  business, 
—  when  she's  a  mind  to  work  at  it." 

"  I  suppose  she  has  it,  even  when  she  hasn't  a  mind 
to  work  at  it,"  said  Burton,  making  his  pipe  purr 
with  a  long,  deep  inspiration  of  satisfaction.  "  I  know 
I  have  mine." 

"  What  is  her  business  ?  "  asked  Ludlow. 

"Well,  she's  a  dressmaker  and  milliner  —  when 
she  Vs."  Mrs.  Burton  stated  the  fact  with  the  effect 
of  admitting  it.  "You  musn't  suppose  that  makes 
any  difference.  In  a  place  like  Pymantoning,  she's 
'  as  good  as  anybody,'  and  her  daughter  has  as  high 
social  standing.  You  can't  imagine  how  Arcadian 
we  are  out  here." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can ;  I've  lived  in  a  village,"  said 
Ludlow. 

"  A  New  England  village,  yes ;  but  the  lines  are 
drawn  just  as  hard  and  fast  there  as  they  are  in  a  city 
You  have  to  live  in  the  West  to  understand  what 
equality  is,  and  in  a  purely  American  population,  like 
this.  You've  got  plenty  of  independence,  in  New 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  29 

England,  but  you  haven't  got  equality,  and  we  have, 
—  or  used  to  have."  Mrs.  Burton  added  the  final 
words  with  apparent  conscience. 

"Just  saved  your  distance,  Polly,"  said  her  hus 
band.  "  We  haven't  got  equality  now,  any  more 
than  we've  got  buffalo.  I  don't  believe  we  ever  had 
buffalo  in  this  section ;  but  we  did  have  deer  once ; 
and  when  I  was  a  boy  here,  venison  was  three  cents 
a  pound,  and  equality  cheaper  yet.  When  they  cut 
off  the  woods  the  venison  and  the  equality  disap 
peared  ;  they  always  do  when  the  woods  are  cut  off." 

"  There's  enough  of  it  left  for  all  practical  purposes, 
and  Mrs.  Saunders  moves  in  the  first  circles  of 
Pymantoning,"  said  Mrs.  Burton. 

"  When  she  does  move,"  said  Burton.  "  She 
doesn't  like  to  move." 

"  Well,  she  has  the  greatest  taste,  and  if  you  can 
get  her  to  do  anything  for  you  your  fortune's  made- 
But  it's  a  favor.  She'll  take  a  thing  that  you've  got 
home  from  the  city,  and  that  you're  frantic  about,  it's 
so  bad,  and  smile  over  it  a  little,  and  touch  it  here 
and  there,  and  it  comes  out  a  miracle  of  style  and 
becomingness.  It's  like  magic." 

"  She  was  charming,"  said  Ludlow,  in  dreamy 
reminiscence. 


30  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"Isn't  she?"  Mrs.  Burton  demanded.  "And  her 
daughter  gets  all  her  artistic  talent  from  her.  Mrs. 
Saunders  is  an  artist,  though  I  don't  suppose  you 
like  to  admit  it  of  a  dressmaker." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do,"  said  Ludlow.  "  I  don't  see  why 
a  man  or  woman  who  drapes  the  human  figure  in 
stuffs,  isn't  an  artist  as  well  as  the  man  or  woman 
who  drapes  it  in  paint  or  clay." 

"  Well,  that's  sense,"  Mrs.  Burton  began. 

"  She  didn't  know  you  had  any,  Ludlow,"  her  hus 
band  explained. 

Mrs.  Burton  did  not  regard  him.  "  If  she  had  any 
ambition  she  would  be  anything  —  just  like  some 
other  lazy-boots."  and  now  she  gave  the  large,  dang 
ling  congress  gaiter  of  her  husband  a  little  push  with 
the  point  of  her  slipper,  for  purposes  of  identification, 
as  the  newspapers  say.  "  But  the  only  ambition  she's 
got  is  for  her  daughter,  and  she  is  proud  of  her,  and 
she  would  spoil  her  if  she  could  get  up  the  energy. 
She  dotes  on  her,  and  Nic  is  fond  of  her  mother,  too. 

Do  you  think  she  can  ever  do  anything  in  art?  " 
-  - 
"  If  she  were  a  boy,  I  should  say  yes ;  as  she's  a 

girl,  I  don't  know,"  .said  Ludlow.     "The  chances  are 
against  her." 

"  Nature's  against  her,  too,"  said  Burton. 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  31 

"  Human  nature  ought  to  be  for  her,  then,"  said 
Mrs.  Burton.  "  If  die  were  j?our  sister  what  should 
you  wish  her  to  be  ?  *'  she  asked  Ludlow. 

•"•» i »iniii •iwiiMaimwnaMiaagrTr  " '" 

"  I  should  wish   her  to  be  "  —  Ludlow    thought  a 


moment  and  then  concluded  —  "  happily  married." 

.......  -      •-••••-  ••••••••••••MnnMMM, 

"  Well,  that's  a  shame  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Burton. 

Her  husband  laughed,  while  he  knocked  the  ashes 
out  of  his  pipe  against  the  edge  of  his  chair-seat. 
"  Rough  on  the  holy  estate  of  matrimony,  Polly." 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  I  believe  as  much  in  the  holy  estate 
of  matrimony  as  anybody,  but  I  don't  believe  it's  the 
begin-all  or  the  end-all  for  a  woman,  any  more  than  it 
is  for  a  man.  What,  Katy  ?  "  she  spoke  to  a  girl  who 
appeared  and  disappeared  in  the  doorway.  "  Oh ! 
Well,  come  in  to  supper,  now.  I  hope  you  have  an 
appetite,  Mr.  Ludlow.  Mr.  Burton's  such  a  delicate 
eater,  and  I  like  to  have  somebody  keep  me  in  coun 
tenance."  She  suddenly  put  her  hand  on  the  back 
of  her  husband's  chair,  and  sprung  it  forward  from 
its  incline  against  the  wall,  with  a  violence  that 
bounced  him  fearfully,  and  extorted  a  roar  of  protest 
from  him. 

They  were  much  older  than  Ludlow,  and  they  per 
mitted  themselves  the  little  rowdy  freedoms  that 
good-natured  married  people  sometimes  use,  as  fear- 


32  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

lessly  in  his  presence  as  if  he  were  a  grown-up 
nephew.  They  prized  him  as  a  discovery  of  their 
own,  for  they  had  stumbled  on  him  one  day  before 
any  one  else  had  found  him  out,  when  he  was  sketch 
ing  at  Fontainebleau.  They  liked  the  look  of  his 
picture,  as  they  viewed  it  at  a  decent  remove  over  his 
shoulder,  and  after  they  got  by  Burton  proposed  to  go 
back  and  kill  the  fellow  on  account  of  the  solemn 
coxcombery  of  his  personal  appearance.  His  wife 
said :  "  Well,  ask  him  what  he'll  take  for  his  picture, 
first,"  and  Burton  returned  and  said  with  brutal 
directness,  while  he  pointed  at  the  canvas  with  his 
stick,  "  Combien?"  When  Ludlow  looked  round  up 
at  him  and  answered  with  a  pleasant  light  in  his  eye, 
"  Well,  I  don't  know  exactly.  What'll  you  give  ?  " 
Burton  spared  his  life,  and  became  his  friend.  He 
called  his  wife  to  him,  and  they  bought  the  picture, 
and  afterwards  they  went  to  Ludlow's  lodging,  for  he 
had  no  studio,  and  conscientiously  painted  in  the  open 
air,  and  bought  others.  They  got  the  pictures  dog 
cheap,  as  Burton  said,  for  Ludlow  was  just  beginning 
then,  and  his  reputation  which  has  never  since  become 
cloud-capt,  was  a  tender  and  lowly  plant.  They 
made  themselves  like  a  youngish  aunt  and  uncle  to 
him,  and  had  him  with  them  all  they  could  while  they 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  83 

stayed  in  Paris.  When  they  came  home  they  brought 
the  first  impressionistic  pictures  ever  seen  in  the  West ; 
at  Pymantoning,  the  village  cynic  asked  which  was 
right  side  up,  and  whether  he  was  to  stand  on  his  head 
or  not  to  get  them  in  range.  Ludlow  remained  in 
France,  which  he  maintained  had  the-  only  sun  for 
impressionism ;  and  then  he  changed  his  mind  all  at 
once,  and  under  an  impulse  of  sudden  patriotism,  de 
clared  for  the  American  sky,  and  the  thin,  crystalline, 
American  air.  His  faith  included  American  subjects, 
and  when,  after  his  arrival  in  New  York,  Burton 
wrote  to  claim  a  visit  from  him  and  ironically  pro 
posed  the  trotting-match  at  the  County  Fair  as  an 
attraction  for  his  pencil,  Ludlow  remembered  the 
trotting-matches  he  had  seen  in  his  boyhood,  and 
came  out  to  Pymantoning  with  a  seriousness  of  expec 
tation  that  alarmed  and  then  amused  his  friends. 

He  was  very  glad  that  he  had  come,  and  that  night, 
after  the  supper  which  lasted  well  into  the  early 
autumn  lamplight,  he  went  out  and  walked  the  village 
streets  under  the  September  moon,  seeing  his  picture 
everywhere  before  him,  and  thinking  his  young,  ex 
ultant  thoughts.  The  maples  were  set  so  thick  along 
the  main  street  that  they  stood  like  a  high,  dark  wall 
on  either  side,  and  he  looked  up  at  the  sky  as  from 


34  THE    COAST    OK    BOHEMIA. 

the  bottom  of  a  chasm.  The  village  houses  lurked 
behind  their  door-yard  trees,  with  breadths  of  autumnal 
bloom  in  the  gardens  beside  them.  Within  their 
shadowy  porches,  or  beside  their  gates,  was 

"  The  delight  of  happy  laughter, 
The  delight  of  low  replies," 

hushing  itself  at  his  approach,  and  breaking  out  again 
at  his  retreat.  The  air  seemed  full  of  love,  and  in 
the  midst  of  his  proud,  gay  hopes,  he  felt  smitten 
with  sudden  isolation,  such  as  youth  knows  in  the 
presence  of  others'  passion.  He  walked  back  to  Bur 
ton's  rather  pensively,  and  got  up  to  his  room  and 
went  to  bed  after  as  little  stay  for  talk  with  his  hosts 
as  he  could  make  decent ;  he  did  not  like  to  break 
with  his  melancholy. 

He  was  roused  from  his  first  sleep  by  the  sound  of 
singing,  which  seemed  to  stop  with  his  waking.  There 
came  a  confused  murmur  of  girls'  and  young  men's 
voices,  and  Ludlow  could  see  from  his  open  window 
the  dim  shapes  of  the  serenaders  in  the  dark  of  the 
trees  below.  Then  they  were  still,  and  all  at  once 
the  silence  was  filled  with  a  rich  contralto  note,  carry 
ing  the  song,  till  the  whole  choir  of  voices  took  up 
the  burden.  Nothing  prettier  could  have  happened 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  35 

anywhere  in  the  world.  Ludlow  hung  rapt  upon  the 
music  till  Burton  flung  up  his  window,  as  if  to  thank 
the  singers.  They  stopped  at  the  sound,  and  with 
gay  shouts  and  shrieks,  and  a  medley  of  wild  laughter, 
skurried  away  into  the  farther  darkness,  where  Lud 
low  heard  them  begin  their  serenade  again  under 
distant  windows  as  little  localized  as  any  space  of  the 


VI. 

LUDLOW  went  back  to  New  York  and  took  up  his 
work  with  vigor  and  with  fervor.  The  picture  of  the 
County  Fair,  which  he  exhibited  at  the  American 
Artists',  ran  a  gauntlet  of  criticism  in  which  it  was  be 
labored  at  once  for  its  unimaginative  vulgarity  and 
its  fantastic  unreality ;  then  it  returned  to  his  studio 
and  remained  unsold,  while  the  days,  weeks,  months 
and  years  went  by  and  left  each  their  fine  trace  on 
him.  His  purposes  dropped  away,  mostly  unfulfilled, 
as  he  grew  older  and  wiser,  but  his  dreams  re 
mained  and  he  was  still  rich  in  a  vast  future.  His 
impressionism  was  somewhat  modified ;  he  offered  his 
palette  less  frequently  to  the  public ;  he  now  and 
then  permitted  a  black  object  to  appear  in  his  pictures; 
his  purples  and  greens  were  less  aggressive.  His  mous 
tache  had  grown  so  thick  that  it  could  no  longer  be 
brushed  up  at  the  points  with  just  the  effect  he  de 
sired,  and  he  suffered  it  to  branch  straight  across  his 
cheeks ;  his  little  dot  of  an  imperial  had  become  lost 
in  the  beard  which  he  wore  so  conscientiously  trimmed 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  87 

to  a  point  that  it  might  be  described  as  religiously 
pointed.     He  was  now  twenty-seven. 

At  sixteen  Cornelia  Saunders  had  her  first  love- 
affair.  It  was  with  a  young  man  who  sold  what  he 
called  art-goods  by  sample  —  satin  banners,  gilt  rolling- 
pins,  brass  disks  and  keramics ;  he  had  permitted 
himself  to  speak  to  her  on  the  train  coming  over  from 
the  Junction,  where  she  took  the  cars  for  Pymantoning 
one  afternoon  after  a  day's  shopping  with  her  mother 
in  Lakeland.  It  did  not  last  very  long,  and  in  fact  it 
hardly  survived  the  brief  stay  which  the  young  man 
made  in  Pymantoning,  where  his  want  of  success  in 
art-goods  was  probably  owing  to  the  fact  that  he  gave 
his  whole  time  to  Cornelia,  or  rather  Cornelia's 
mother,  whom  he  found  much  more  conversable ;  he 
played  upon  the  banjo  for  her,  and  he  danced  a  little 
clog-dance  in  her  parlor,  which  was  also  her  shop,  to 
the  accompaniment  of  his  own  whistling,  first  setting 
aside  the  bonnet-trees  with  their  scanty  fruitage  of 
summer  hats,  and  pushing  the  show-table  against  the 
wall.  "  Won't  hurt  'em  a  mite,"  he  reassured  her, 
and  he  struck  her  as  a  careful  as  well  as  accomplished 
young  man.  His  passion  for  Cornelia  lingered  a 
while  in  letters,  which  he  proposed  in  parting,  and 
then,  about  six  months  later,  Mrs.  Saunders  received 


38  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

the  newspaper  announcement  of  his  marriage  to  Miss 
Tweety  Byers  of  Lakeland.  There  were  "  No  Cards," 
but  Mrs.  Saunders  made  out,  with  Mrs.  Burton's 
help,  that  Tweety  was  the  infantile  for  the  pet  name 
of  Sweety ;  and  the  marriage  seemed  a  fit  union  for 
one  so  warm  and  true  as  the  young  traveller  in  art- 
goods. 

Mrs.  Saunders  was  a  good  deal  surprised,  but  she  did 
not  suffer  keenly  from  the  disappointment  which  she 
had  innocently  done  her  best  to  bring  upon  her  daugh 
ter.  Cornelia,  who  had  been  the  passive  instrument  of 
her  romance,  did  not  suffer  from  it  at  all,  having 
always  objected  to  the  thickness  of  the  young  man's 
hands,  and  to  the  early  baldness  which  gave  him  the 
Shakespearian  brow  he  had  so  little  use  for.  She 
laughed  his  memory  to  scorn,  and  employed  the 
episode  as  best  she  could  in  quelling  her  mother's 
simple  trust  of  passing  strangers.  They  worked  along 
together,  in  the  easy,  unambitious  village  fashion,  and 
kept  themselves  in  the  average  comfort,  while  the 
time  went  by  and  Cornelia  had  grown  from  a  long,  lean 
child  to  a  tall  and  stately  young  girl,  who  carried  her 
self  with  so  much  native  grace  and  pride  that  she  had 
very  little  attention  from  the  village  youth.  She  had 
not  even  a  girl  friendship,  and  her  chief  social  resource 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  39 

was  in  her  intimacy  at  the  Burtons.  She  borrowed 
books  of  them,  and  read  a  good  deal ;  and  when  she 
was  seventeen  she  rubbed  up  her  old  studies  and  got  a 
teacher's  certificate  for  six  months,  and  taught  a  sum 
mer  term  in  a  district  at  Burnt  Pastures.  She  came 
home  in  the  fall,  and  when  she  called  at  the  Burtons' 
to  get  a  book,  as  usual,  Mrs.  Burton  said,  "Nelie, 
you're  not  feeling  very  well,  are  you  ?  Somehow  you 
looked  fagged." 

"  Well,  I  do  feel  queer,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  seem  to 
be  in  a  kind  of  dream.  It  —  scares  me.  I'm  afraid 
I'm  going  to  be  sick." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  not,"  Mrs.  Burton  answered  comforta 
bly.  "  You're  just  tired  out.  How  did  you  like  your 
school  ?  " 

"  I  hated  it,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  trembling  chin  and 
wet  eyes.  "  I  don't  believe  I'm  fit  for  teaching.  I 
won't  try  it  any  more;  I'll  stay  at  home  and  help 
mother." 

"  You  ought  to  keep  up  your  drawing,"  said  Mrs. 
Burton  in  general  admonition.  "Do  you  draw  any 
now?" 

"  Nothing  much,"  said  the  girl. 

"  I  should  think  you  would,  to  please  your  mother. 
Don't  you  care  anything  for  it  yourself  ?  " 


40  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  haven't  the  courage  I  had  when 
I  thought  I  knew  it  all.  I  don't  think  I  should 
ever  amount  to  anything.  It  would  be  a  waste  of 
time." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.  "  I  believe 
you  could  be  a  great  artist." 

The  girl  laughed.  "  What  ever  became  of  that 
painter  who  visited  you  year  before  last  at  fair  time  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Ludlow  ?  Oh,  he's  in  New  York.  He  thought 
your  sketches  were  splendid,  Nelie." 

"He  said  the  girls  half-killed  themcelves  there 
studying  art." 

"Did  he?"  demanded  Mrs.  Burton  with  a  note  of 
wrath  in  her  voice. 

"  Mm.     He  told  mother  so  that  day." 

"  He  had  no  business  to  say  such  a  thing  before 
you.  Was  that  what  discouraged  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  got  discouraged.  Of  course,  I 
should  like  to  please  mother.  How  much  do  you 
suppose  it  would  cost  a  person  to  live  in  New  York  ? 
I  don't  mean  take  a  room  and  board  yourself;  I 
shouldn't  like  to  do  that;  but  everything  included." 

"  I  don't  know,  indeed,  Nelie.  Jim  always  kept  the 
accounts  when  we  were  there,  and  we  stayed  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Hotel." 


THE   COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  41 

"  Do  you  suppose  it  would  be  twice  as  much  as  it  is 
here  ?  Five  dollars  a  week  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'm  afraid  it  would,"  Mrs.  Burton  admitted. 

"  I've  got  sixty-five  dollars  from  my  school.  I 
suppose  it  would  keep  me  three  months  in  New  York, 
if  I  was  careful.  But  I'm  not  going  to  throw  it  away 
on  any  such  wild  scheme  as  that.  I  know  that  much." 

They  talked  away  from  the  question,  and  then 
talked  back  to  it  several  times,  after  they  had  both 
seemed  to  abandon  it.  At  last  Mrs.  Burton  said, 
"  Why  don't  you  let  me  write  to  Mr.  Ludlow,  Nelie, 
and  ask  him  all  about  it  ?  " 

The  girl  jumped  to  her  feet  in  a  fright.  "  If  you 
do,  Mrs.  Burton,  I'll  kill  myself !  No,  I  didn't  mean 
to  say  that.  But  I'll  never  speak  to  you  again.  Now 
you  won't  really,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  won't,  Nelie,  if  you  don't  want  me  to ;  but 
I  don't  see  why  —  Why,  bless  the  child  !  " 

Mrs.  Burton  sprang  forward  and  caught  the  girl, 
who  was  reeling  as  if  she  were  going  to  fall.  "  Katy ! 
Katy !  Bring  some  water  here,  quick !  " 

When  they  had  laid  Cornelia  on  a  sofa  and  restored 
her  from  her  faint,  Mrs.  Burton  would  not  let  her  try 
to  rise.  She  sent  out  to  Burton,  who  was  reading  a 
novel  in  the  mild  forenoon  air  under  the  crimson 


42  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

maples,  and  made  him  get  the  carryall  and  take  Corne 
lia  home  in  it.  They  thought  they  would  pretend 
that  they  were  out  for  a  drive,  and  were  merely  drop 
ping  her  at  her  mother's  door ;  but  no  ruse  was  neces 
sary.  Mrs.  Saunders  tranquilly  faced  the  fact ;  she 
said  she  thought  the  child  hadn't  been  herself  since 
she  got  back  from  her  school,  and  she  guessed  she  had 
better  have  the  doctor  now. 


VII. 

IT  was  toward  the  end  of  January  before  Cornelia 
was  well  enough  to  be  about  in  the  old  way,  after  her 
typhoid  fever.  Once  she  was  so  low  that  the  rumor 
of  her  death  went  out ;  but  when  this  proved  false  it 
was  known  for  a  good  sign,  and  no  woman,  at  least, 
was  surprised  when  she  began  to  get  well.  She  was 
delirious  part  of  the  time,  and  then  she  rayed  con- 
stantly  about  Ludlow,  and  going  to  New  York  to 
study  art.  It  was  a  mere  superficial  effect  from  her 
talk  with  Mrs.  Burton  just  before  she  was  taken  down 
with  the  fever ;  but  it  was  pathetic,  all  the  same,  to 
hear  her  pleading  with  him,  quarrelling,  protesting 
that  she  was  strong  enough,  and  that  she  was  not 
afraid  but  that  she  should  get  through  all  right  if  he 
would  only  tell  her  how  to  begin.  "  Now  you  just  tell 
me  that,  tell  me  that,  tell  me  that !  It's  the  place  that 
I  can't  find.  If  I  can  get  to  the  right  door !  But  it 
won't  open  !  It  won't  open  !  Oh,  dear !  What  shall  I 
do ! " 

Mrs.  Burton,  who  heard  this  go  on  through  the 
solemn  hours  of  night,  thought  that  if  Ludlow  could 


44  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

only  hear  it  he  would  be  careful  how  he  ever  discour 
aged  any  human  being  again.  It  was  as  much  as  her 
husband  could  do  to  keep  her  from  writing  to  him,  and 
making  the  girl's  fever  a  matter  of  personal  reproach 
to  him ;  but  she  refrained,  and  when  Cornelia  got  up 
from  it  she  was  so  changed  that  Mrs.  Burton  was  glad 
she  had  never  tried  to  involve  any  one  else  in  her 
anxieties  about  her. 

Not  only  the  fever  had  burned  itself  out,  but  Corne 
lia's  temperament  seemed  for  awhile  to  have  been 
consumed  in  the  fire.  She  came  out  of  it  more  like 
her  mother.  She  was  gentler  than  she  used  to  be,  and 
especially  gentle  and  good  to  her  mother ;  and  she 
had  not  only  grown  to  resemble  her  in  a  greater  tran 
quillity  and  easy-goingness,  but  to  have  come  into  her 
ambitions  and  desires.  The  change  surprised  Mrs. 
Saunders  a  good  deal ;  up  to  this  time  it  had  always 
surprised  her  that  Cornelia  should  not  have  been  at 
all  like  her.  She  sometimes  reflected,  however,  that 
if  you  came  to  that,  Cornelia's  father  had  never  been 
at  all  like  her,  either. 

It  was  only  a  passing  phase  of  the  girl's  evolution. 
With  the  return  of  perfect  health  and  her  former 
strength,  she  got  back  her  old  energetic  self,  but  of 
another  quality  and  in  another  form.  Probably  she 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  45 

would  have  grown  into  the  character  she  now  took  on 
in  any  case ;  but  following  her  convalescence  as  it  did, 
it  had  a  more  dramatic  effect.  She  began  to  review 
her  studies  and  her  examination  papers  before  the  doc 
tor  knew  it,  and  when  the  county  examiners  met  in 
June  she  was  ready  for  them,  and  got  a  certificate 
authorizing  her  to  teach  for  a  year.  With  this  she 
need  not  meet  the  poor  occasions  of  any  such  forlorn 
end-of-the-earth  as  Burnt  Pastures.  She  had  an  offer 
of  the  school  at  Hartley's  Mills,  and  she  taught  three 
terms  there,  and  brought  home  a  hundred  and  fifty  dol 
lars  at  the  end.  All  through  the  last  winter  she  drew, 
more  or  less,  and  she  could  see  better  than  any  one 
else  that  she  had  not  fallen  behind  in  her  art,  but  after 
having  let  it  drop  for  a  time,  had  taken  it  up  with  fresh 
power  and  greater  skill.  She  had  come  to  see  things 
better  than  she  used,  and  she  had  learned  to  be  faith 
ful  to  what  she  saw,  which  is  the  great  matter  in  all 
the  arts. 

She  had  never  formulated  this  fact,  even  if  she 
knew  it ;  and  Mrs.  Burton  was  still  further  from 
guessing  what  it  was  that  made  Cornelia's  sketches 
so  much  more  attractive  than  they  were,  when  the 
girl  let  her  look  at  them,  in  one  of  her  proud,  shy 
confidences.  She  said,  "  I  do  wish  Mr.  Ludlow  could 
see  these,  Nelie." 


46  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

"  Do  you  think  he  would  be  very  much  excited  ?  " 
asked  the  girl,  with  the  sarcastic  humor  which  had 
risen  up  in  her  to  be  one  of  the  reliefs  of  her  earlier 
intensity. 

"  He  ought  to  be,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.  "  You  know 
he  did  admire  your  drawings,  Nelie  ;  even  those  you 
had  at  the  fair,  that  time." 

"  Did  he  ?  "  returned  the  girl,  carelessly.  "  What 
did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  said  that  if  you  were  a  boy  there  couldn't 
be  any  doubt  about  you." 

Cornelia  laughed.  ""  That  was  a  pretty  safe  kind 
of  praise.  I'm  not  likely  ever  to  be  a  boy."  She 
rose  up  from  where  they  were  sitting  together,  and 
went  to  put  her  drawings  away  in  her  room.  When 
she  came  back,  she  said,  "  It  would  be  fun  to  show 
him,  some  day,  that  even  so  low  down  a  crouturo  as  a 
girl  could  be  something." 

"I  wish  you  would,  Nic,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  "I 
just  wish  you  would.  Why  don't  you  go  to  New 
York,  this  winter,  and  study !  Why  don't  you  make 
her,  Mrs.  Saunders  ?  " 

"  Who  ?  Me  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Saunders,  who  sat  by,  in 
an  indolent  abeyance.  "  Oh  !  I  ain't  allowed  to  open 
my  mouth  any  more." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  47 

"  Well,"  said  Cornelia,  "don't  be  so  ungrammatical, 
then,  when  you  do  it  without  being  allowed,  mother." 

Mrs.  Saunders  laughed  in  lazy  enjoyment.  "One 
thing  I  know ;  if  I  had  my  way  she'd  have  been  in 
tfew  York  studying  long  ago,  instead  of  fooling  away 
her  time  out  here,  school-teaching." 

"  And  where  would  you  have  been,  mother  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Sauuders  again,  incorrigibly. 
"Oh,  I  guess  I  should  have  been  somewhere !  " 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what,"  Mrs.  Burton  broke  in, 
"  Nic  must  go,  arid  that's  all  about  it.  I  know  from 
what  Mr.  Ludlow  said  that  he  believes  she  could  be 
an  artist.  She  would  have  to  work  hard,  but  I  don't 
call  teaching  school  play,  exactly." 

"  Indeed  it  isn't  !  "  said  Mrs.  Saunders.  "  I'd 
sooner  set  all  day  at  the  machine  myself,  and  dear 
knows  that's  trying  enough  ! ." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  the  hard  work,"  said  Cornelia. 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of,  then  ? "  demanded  her 
mother.  "  Afraid  of  failing  ?  " 

"  No ;  of  succeeding,"  answered  Cornelia,  perversely. 

" Tcairl  make  the  child  out,"  said  Mrs.  Saunders, 
with  apparent  pleasure  in  the  mystery. 

Cornelia  went  on,  at  least  partially,  to  explain  her 
self.  "  I  mean,  succeeding  in  the  way  women  seem 

-~»-~— — «— — .«_____»m^_ ***~rTriimiTniiiin  i  u  i  mj „ mnr~ 

to  succeed.     They  make  me  sick !  ' 


48  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

"  Oh,"  said  her  mother,  with  sarcasm  that  could  not 
sustain  itself  even  by  a  smile  letting  Mrs.  Burton  into 
the  joke,  "  going  to  be  a  Rosa  Bonnhure  ?  " 

Cornelia  scorned  this  poor  attempt  of  her  mother. 
"  If  I  can't  succeed  as  men  succeed,  and  be  a  great 
painter,  and  not  just  a  great  ivoman  painter,  I'd  rather 
be  excused  altogether.  Even  Rosa  Bonheur:  I  don't 
believe  her  horses  would  have  been  considered  so  won 
derful  if  a  man  had  done  them.  I  guess  that's  what 
Mr.  Ludlow  meant,  and  I  guess  he  was  right.  I  guess 
if  a  girl  wants  to  turn  out  an  artist  she'd  better  start 
by  being  a  boy." 

'I  guess,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  with  admiring  eyes 
full  of  her  beauty,  "  that  if  Mr.  Ludlow  could  see  you 
now,  he'd  be  very  sorry  to  have  you  a  boy !  " 

Cornelia  blushed  the  splendid  red  of  a  brunette. 
".There  it  is,  Mrs.  Burton !  That's  what's  always  in 
everybody's  mind  about  a  girl  when  she  wants  to  do 
something.  It's  what  a  magnificent  match  she'll  make 
by  her  painting  or  singing  or  acting  !  And  if  the  poor 
fool  only  knew,  she  needn't  draw  or  sing  or  act,  to  do 
that." 

"  A  person  would  think  you'd  been  through  the 
wars,  Cornelia,"  said  her  mother. 

"  I  don't  care !     It's  a  shame  !  " 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  49 

"  It  is  a  shame,  Nelie,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  sooth 
ingly  ;  and  she  added,  unguardedly,  u  and  I  told  Mr. 
Ludlow  so,  when  he  spoke  about  a  girl's  being  happily 
married,  as  if  there  was  no  other  happiness  for  a  girl." 

"  Oh  !     He  thinks  that,  does  he  ?  M 

"  No,  of  course,  he  doesn't.  He  has  a  very  high 
ideal  of  womeiT;  but  he  WM  Just  running  on.  in  the. 
usual  way.  He  told  afterwards  how  hard  the  girl  art- 
students  work  in  New  York,  and  go  ahead  of  the 
young  men,  some  of  them  —  where  they  have  the 
strength.  The  only  thing  is  that  so  few  of  them 
have  the  strength.  That's  what  he  meant." 

"  What  do  you  think,  mother  ?  "  asked  the  girl  with 
an  abrupt  turn  toward  her.  "  Do  you  thmk^I'd  break 
down?" 

"  I  guess  if  you  didn't  break  down  teaching  school, 
that  you  hated,  you  won't  break  down  studying  art, 
when  you  love  it  so." 

"  Well,"  Cornelia  said,  with  the  air  of  putting  an 
end  to  the  audience,  "  I  guess  there's  no  great  hurry 
about  it." 

She  let  her  mother  follow  Mrs.  Burton  out,  recog 
nizing  with  a  smile  of  scornful  intelligence  the  ladies' 
wish  to  have  the  last  word  about  her  to  themselves. 


vm. 

"  I  DON'T  know  as  I  ever  saw  her  let  herself  go  so 
far  before,"  said  Mrs.  Saunders,  Waning  on  the  top  of 
the  closed  gate,  and  speaking  across  it  to  Mrs.  Burton 
on  the  outside  of  the  fence.  "  I  guess  she's  thinking 
about  it,  pretty  seriously.  She's  got  money  enough, 
and  more  than  enough." 

"  "Well,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  "  I'm  going  to  write  to 
Mr.  Ludlow  about  it,  as  soon  as  I  get  home,  and  I 
know  I  can  get  him  to  say  something  that'll  decide 
her." 

"  So  do  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Saunders,  delighted. 

She  lingered  awhile  talking  of  other  things,  so  as  to 
enable  herself  to  meet  Cornelia  with  due  unconscious 
ness  when  she  returned  to  her. 

"  Have  you  been  talking  me  over  all  this  time, 
mother  ?  "  the  girl  asked. 

"  We  didn't  hardly  say  a  word  about  you,"  said 
her  mother,  and  now  she  saw  what  a  good  thing  it  was 
that  she  had  staid  and  talked  impersonalities  with 
Mrs.  Burton. 


'SHES    GOT    MONEY    ENOUGH. 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  51 

"  Well,  one  thing  I  know,"  said  the  girl,  "  if  she 
gets  that  Mr.  Ludlow  to  encourage  me,  I'll  never  go 
near  New  York  in  the  world." 

Mrs.  Saunders  escaped  into  the  next  room,  and  an 
swered  back  from  that  safe  distance,  "  I  guess  you'd 
better  get  her  to  tell  you  what  she's  going  to  do." 

When  she  returned,  the  girl  stood  looking  dreamily 
out  of  the  little  crooked  panes  of  the  low  window. 
She  asked,  with  her  back  to  her  mother,  "  What  would 
you  do,  if  I  went  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  should  get  along,"  said  Mrs.  Saunders  with 
the  lazy  piety  which  had  never  yet  found  Providence 
to  fail  it.  "  I  should  get  Miss  Snively  to  go  in  with 
me,  here.  She  ain't  making  out  very  well,  alone,  and 
she  could  be  company  to  me  in  more  ways  than  one." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl,  in  a  deep  sigh.  "  I  thought  of 
her."  She  faced  about. 

"  Why,  land,  child  !  "  cried  her  mother,  "  what's  the 
matter  ?  " 

Cornelia's  eyes  were  streaming  with  tears,  and  the 
passion  in  her  heart  was  twisting  her  face  with  its  an 
guish.  She  flung  her  arms  round  her  mother's  neck, 
and  sobbed  on  her  breast.  "  Oh,  I'm  going,  I'm  go 
ing,  and  you  don't  seem  to  care  whether  I  go  or  stay, 
and  it'll  kill  me  to  leave  you." 


52  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

Mrs.  Saunders  smiled  across  the  tempest  of  grief  iq 
her  embrace,  at  her  own  tranquil  image  in  the  glass, 
and  took  it  into  the  joke.  "  Well,  you  ain't  going  to 
leave  this  minute,"  she  said,  smoothing  the  girl's  black 
hair.  "  And  I  don't  really  care  if  you  never  go,  Nic. 
You  mustn't  go  on  my  account." 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  do." 

"  And  you  don't  care  whether  I'm  ever  an  artist  or 
not  ?  " 

"  What  good  is  your  being  an  artist  going  to  do 
me  ?  "  asked  her  mother,  still  with  a  joking  eye  on 
herself  in  the  mirror. 

"  And  I'm  perfectly  free  to  go  or  to  stay,  as  far  as 
your  wish  is  concerned  ?  " 

"  Well !  "  said  Mrs.  Saunders,  with  insincere  scorn 
of  the  question. 

The  girl  gave  her  a  fierce  hug ;  she  straightened 
herself  up,  and  dashed  the  water  from  her  eyes. 
"  Well,  then,"  she  said,  "  I'll  see.  But  promise  me 
one  thing,  mother." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  That  you  won't  ask  me  a  single  thing  about  it, 
from  this  out,  if  I  never  .decide  !  " 

"  Well,  I  won't,  Nic.     I  promise  you  that,     /don't 


"I'VE    MADE    UP    MY    MIND    TO    GO    TO    NEW  YORK. 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  53 

want  to  drive  you  to  anything.  And  I  guess  you 
know  ten  times  as  well  what  you  want  to  do,  as  I  do, 
anyway.  I  ain't  going  to  worry  you." 

Three  weeks  later,  just  before  fair  time,  Cornelia 
went  to  see  Mrs.  Burton.  It  was  warm,  and  Mrs. 
Burton  brought  out  a  fan  for  her  on  the  piazza. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  hot,"  said  Cornelia.  "  Mrs.  Burton, 
I've  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  New  York  this  winter, 
and  study  art." 

"  I  knew  you  would,  Nic !  "  Mrs.  Burton  exulted. 

"  Yes.  I've  thought  it  all  out.  I've  got  the  money, 
now.  I  keep  wanting  to  paint,  and  I  don't  know 
whether  I  can  or  not,  and  the  only  way  is  to  go  and 
find  out.  It'll  be  easy  enough  to  come  home.  I'll 
keep  money  enough  to  pay  my  way  back." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  "  it's  the  only  way.  But 
I  guess  you'll  find  out  you  can  paint  fast  enough.  It's 
a  pretty  good  sign  you  can,  if  you  want  to." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Some  girls  want  to  write 
poetry  awfully,  and  can't.  Mrs.  Burton,"  she  broke 
off,  with  a  nervous  laugh,  "  I  don't  suppose  you  ex 
pect  that  Mr.  Ludlow  out  to  the  fair  this  year  ?  " 

"  No,  Nelie,  I  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  with  ten 
der  reluctance. 

"  Because,"  said  the  girl  with  another  laugh,  "  he 


54  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

might  save  me  a  trip  to  New  York,  if  he  could  see  my 
drawings."  Something,  she  did  not  know  what,  in 
Mrs.  Burton's  manner,  made  her  ask :  "  Have  you 
heard  from  him  lately  ?  Perhaps  he's  given  it  up, 
too !  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Burton,  with  a  break  from 
her  cheerfulness  with  Cornelia,  which  set  its  volun 
tary  character  in  evidence  to  the  girl's  keen,  young 
perception.  "  But  he  seemed  to  be  rather  discouraged 
about  the  prospects  of  artists  when  he  wrote."  She 
was  afraid  Cornelia  might  ask  her  when  he  had 
written.  "  He  seemed  to  think  the  ranks  were  very 

full.     He's  a  very  changeable  person.     He's  always 

— — 
talked,  before  now,  about  there  being  plenty  of  room 

at  the  top." 

"Well,  that's  whore  1  expect  to  be,"  said  the  girl,,, 
smiling  but  trembling.  She  turned  the  talk,  and  soon 
rose  to  go,  ignoring  to  the  last  Mrs.  Burton's  forced 
efforts  to  recur  to  her  plan  of  studying  art  in  New 
York.  Now  she  said :  "  Mrs.  Burton,  there's  one 
thing  I'd  like  to  ask  you,"  and  she  lifted  her  eyes 
upon  her  with  a  suddenness  that  almost  made  Mrs. 
Burton  jump. 

"  What  is  it,  Nelie  ?  "  • 

"  You've  always  been  so  .good  to  me  —  and  —  and 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  OO 

taken  such  an  interest,  that  I'm  afraid — I  thought 
you  might  try  —  I  want  you  to  promise  me  you  won't 
write  to  Mr.  Ludlow  about  me,  or  ask  him  to  do  the 
least  thing,  for  me !  " 

"  I  won't,  I  won't  indeed,  Nelie ! "  Mrs.  Burton 
promised  with  grateful  perfervor. 

"  Because,"  said  the  girl,  taking  her  skirt  in  her  left 
hand,  preparatory  to  lifting  it  for  her  descent  of  the 
piazza  steps,  "  now  that  I've  made  up  my  mind,  I 
don't  want  to  be  discouraged,  and  I  don't  want  to  be 
helped.  If  I  can't  do  for  myself,  I  won't  be  done 

££ 

After  she  got  down  through  the  maples,  and  well 
out  of  the  gate,  Burton  came  and  stood  in  the  hall 
door-way,  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth.  "  Saved  your 
distance,  Polly,  as  usual ;  saved  your  distance." 

"  What  would  you  have  done  ?  "  retorted  his  wife. 

"  I  should  have  told  her  that  I'd  just  got  a  letter 
from  Ludlow  this  morning,  and  that  he  begged  and 
entreated  me  by  everything  I  held  dear,  to  keep  the 
poor  girl  from  coming  to  New  York,  and  throwing 
away  her  time  and  health  and  money." 

"You  wouldn't!"  cried  Mrs.  Burton.  "You 
wouldn't  have  done  anything  of  the  kind.  It  would 
have  made  her  perfectly  hate  him." 


56  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

Burton  found  his  pipe  out.  He  lighted  a  match 
and  hollowed  his  hands  over  it  above  the  pipe,  to 
keep  it  from  the  draught.  "  Well,"  he  said,  avoiding 
the  point  in  controversy,  "  why  shouldn't  she  perfectly 
hate  him  ?  " 


IX. 

SEPTEMBER  was  theoretically  always  a  very  busy 
month  with  Mrs.  Saunders.  She  believed  that  she 
devoted  it  to  activities  which  she  called  her  fall  work, 
and  that  she  pressed  forward  in  the  fulfilments  of 
these  duties  with  a  vigor  inspired  by  the  cool,  clear 
weather.  But  in  reality  there  was  not  much  less 
folding  of  the  hands  with  her  in  September  than  there 
was  in  July.  She  was  apt,  on  the  coolest  and  clearest 
September  day,  to  drop  into  a  chair  with  a  deep 
drawn  "  Oh,  hum  !  "  after  the  fatigue  of  bringing  in 
an  apronful  of  apples,  or  driving  the  hens  away  from 
her  chrysanthemums,  and  she  spent  a  good  deal  of 
time  wondering  how,  with  all  she  had  to  do,  she  was 
ever  going  to  get  those  flowers  in  before  the  frost 
caught  them.  At  one  of  these  times,  sitting  up  slim, 
graceful  and  picturesque,  in  the  feather-cushioned 
rocker-lounge,  and  fanning  her  comely  face  with  her 
shade-hat,  it  occurred  to  her  to  say  to  Cornelia,  sew 
ing  hard  beside  the  window,  "  I  guess  you  won't  see 
them  in  blossom  this  Christmas,  Nic." 


58  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  Not  unless  you  cut  them  at  the  roots  and  send 
them  to  me  by  mail  to  look  at,"  said  the  girl. 

Her  mother  laughed  easily.  "  Well,  I  must  really 
take  hold  and  help  you,  or  you'll  never  get  away. 
I've  put  off  everybody  else's  work,  till  its  perfectly 
scandalous,  and  I'm  afraid  they'll  bring  the  roof 
about  my  ears,  and  yet  I  seem  -to  be  letting  you  do 
all  your  sewing.  Well,  one  thing,  I  presume  I  hate 
to  have  you  go  so !  " 

"  Mother !  "  cried  the  girl,  drawing  out  her  needle 
to  the  full  length  of  her  thread  before  she  let  her  hand 
drop  nervelessly  at  her  side,  and  she  fell  back  to  look 
fixedly  at  Mrs.  Saunders.  "If  that's  the  way  you 
feel!" 

"  I  don't !  I  want  you  to  go  just  as  much  as  ever 
I  did.  But  looking  at  you  there,  just  against  the 
window,  that  way,  I  got  to  thinking  you  wouldn't  be 
there  a  great  while  ;  and  "  —  Mrs.  Saunders  caught 
her  breath,  and  was  mute  a  moment  before  she  gave 
way  and  began  to  whimper.  From  the  force  of  habit 
she  tried  to  whimper  with  one  side  of  her  mouth,  as 
she  emiled,  to  keep  her  missing  teeth  from  showing ; 
and  at  the  sight  of  this  characteristic  effortj  so  familiar 
and  so  full  of  long  association,  Cornelia's  heart  melted 
within  her,  and  she  ran  to  her  mother,  and  pulled  her 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  59 

head  down  on  her  breast  and  covered  the  un whimper 
ing  cheek  with  kisses. 

"  Don't  you  suppose  I  think  of  that,  too,  mother  ? 
And  when  you  go  round  the  room,  or  out  in  the  yard, 
I  just  keep  following  you  as  if  I  was  magnetized,  and 
I  can  see  you  with  my  eyes  shut  as  well  as  I  can  with 
them  open ;  and  I  know  how  I  shall  feel  when  that's 
all  I've  got  of  you  !  But  I'll  soon  be  back !  Why 
I'll  be  here  in  June  again !  And  its  no  use,  now. 
I've  got  to  go." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  her  mother,  pushing  herself  free, 
and  entering  upon  so  prolonged  a  searcli  for  her  hand 
kerchief  that  her  tears  had  almost  time  to  dry  without 
it  before  she  found  it.  "  But  that  don't  make  it  any 
easier,  child." 

They  had  agreed  from  the  time  Cornelia  made  up 
her  mind  to  go,  and  they  had  vowed  the  Burtons  to 
secrecy,  that  they  were  not  to  tell  any  one  till  just 
before  she  started ;  but  it  was  riot  in  Mrs.  Saunders's 
nature  or  the  nature  of  things,  that  she  should  keep 
her  part  of  the  agreement.  She  was  so  proud  of 
Cornelia's  going  to  study  art  in  New  York,  and  going 
on  her  own  money,  that  she  would  have  told  all  her 
customers  that  she  was  going,  even  if  it  had  not  proved 
such  a  good  excuse  for  postponing  and  delaying  the 
work  they  brought  her. 


60  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

It  was  all  over  town  before  the  first  week  was  out, 
and  the  fact  had  been  canvassed  in  and  out  of  the 
presence  of  the  principals,  with  much  the  same  frank 
ness.  What  Cornelia  had  in  excess  of  a  putting- 
down  pride  her  mother  correspondingly  lacked  ;  what 
the  girl  forbade,  Mrs.  Saunders  invited  by  her  manner, 
and  there  were  not  many  people,  or  at  least  many 
ladies,  in  Pymantoning,  who  could  not  put  their  hands 
on  their  hearts  and  truly  declare  that  they  had  spoken 
their  minds  as  freely  to  Mrs.  Saunders  as  they  had  to 
anybody,, 

As  the  time  drew  near  Mrs.  Burton  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  ask  Mr.  Ludlow  about  a  boarding-place 
for  Cornelia ;  and  to  this  Cornelia  consented  on  con 
dition  that  he  should  be  strictly  prohibited  from  tak 
ing  any  more  trouble  than  simply  writing  the  address 
on  a  piece  of  paper.  When  Mrs.  Burton  brought  it 
she  confessed  that  Mr.  Ludlow  seemed  to  have  so  far 
exceeded  his  instructions  as  to  have  inquired  the  price 
of  board  in  a  single  room. 

"  I'm  afraid,  Nelie,  it's  more  than  you  expected. 
But  everything  is  very  dear  in  New  York,  and  Mr. 
Ludlow  thought  it  was  cheap.  There's  no  fire  in  the 
room,  even  at  that,  but  if  you  leave  the  door  open 
when  you're  out,  it  heats  nicely  from  the  hall.  It's 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  61 

over  the  door,  four  flights  up  ;  it's  what  they  call  a 
side  room." 

"  How  much  is  it,  Mrs.  Burton  ?"  Cornelia  asked, 
steadily ;  but  she  held  her  breath  till  the  answer  came. 

"  It's  seven  dollars  a  week." 

"  Well,  the  land !  "  said  Mrs.  Saunders,  for  all  com 
ment  on  the  extortionate  figure. 

For  a  moment  Cornelia  did  not  say  anything. 
Then  she  quietly  remarked,  "  I  can  be  home  all  the 
sooner,"  and  she  took  the  paper  which  Ludlow  had 
written  the  address  on  ;  she  noticed  that  it  smelt  of 
tobacco  smoke. 

"  He  said  you  could  easily  find  your  way  from  the 
Grand  Central  Depot  by  the  street  cars  ;  it's  almost 
straight.  He's  written  down  on  the  back  which  cars 
you  take.  You  give  your  check  to  the  baggage 
expressman  that  comes  aboard  the  train  before  you  get 
in,  and  then  you  don't  have  the  least  trouble.  He 
says  there  are  several  girl  art-students  in  the  same 


house,~an3~you'ir~soon  feel  at  home.  He  says  if  you 
feel  the  least  timid  about  getting  in  alone,  he'll  come 
with  a  lady  friend  of  his,  to  meet  you,  and  she'll  take 
you  to  your  boarding-house." 

Mrs.  Burton  escaped  with  rather  more  than  her  life 
from  the  transmission  of   this  offer.     Cornelia   even 


62  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

said,  "  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  him,  I'm  sure.  But 
I  shouldn't  wish  to  trouble  him,  thank  you.  I  won't 
feel  the  least  timid." 

But  her  mother  followed  Mrs.  Burton  out  to  the 
gate,  as  usual.  "  I  guess,"  Mrs.  Saunders  explained, 
"  she  hated  to  have  him  make  so  much  to-do  about  it. 
What  makes  him  want  to  bring  a  lady  friend  to  meet 
her  ?  Somebody  he's  engaged  to  ?  " 

"  "Well,  that's  what  I  wondered,  at  first,"  said  Mrs. 
Burton.  "  But  then  when  I  came  to  think  how  very 
different  the  customs  are  in  New  York,  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  did  it  on  Cornelia's  account.  If  he 
was  to  take  her  to  the  boarding-house  himself,  they 
might  think  he  was  engaged  to  her." 

"  Well !  "  said  Mrs.  Saunders. 

"You  may  be  sure  it's  because  he's  good  and 
thoughtful  about  it,  and  wants  her  not  to  have  any 
embarrassment. ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  guess  he's  all  right,"  said  Mrs.  Saunders. 
"  But  who'd  ever  have  thought  of  having  to  take  such 
precautions  ?  I  shouldn't  think  life  was  worth  having 
on  such  terms,  if  /was  a  girl." 

She  told  Cornelia  about  this  strange  social  ceremony 
of  chaperonage,  which  now  for  the  first  time  practi 
cally  concerned  them. 


X. 

THE  night  began  to  fall  an  hour  before  Cornelia's 
train  reached  New  York,  and  it  drew  into  the  station, 
through  the  whirl  and  dance  of  parti-colored  lights 
everywhere. 

The  black  porter  of  the  sleeping-car  caught  up  her 
bag  and  carried  it  out  for  her,  as  if  he  were  going  to 
carry  it  indefinitely  ;  and  outside  she  stood  letting  him 
hold  it,  while  she  looked  about  her,  scared  and  be 
wildered,  and  the  passengers  hurrying  by,  pushed  and 
bumped  against  her.  When  she  collected  her  wits 
sufficiently  to  take  it  from  him,  she  pressed  on  with 
the  rest  up  toward  the  front  of  the  station  where  the 
crowd  frayed  out  in  different  directions.  At  the  open 
doorway  giving  on  the  street  she  stopped,  and  stood 
holding  her  bag,  and  gazed  fearfully  out  on  a  line  of 
wild  men  on  the  curbstone ;  they  all  seemed  to  be 
stretching  their  hands  out  to  her,  and  they  rattled  and 
clamored :  "  Keb  ?  A  keb,  a  keb,  a  keb  ?  Want  a 
keb?  Keb  here!  Keb?  A  keb,  a  keb,  a  keb!" 
They  were  kept  back  by  a  policeman  who  prevented 


64  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

them  from  falling  upon  the  passengers,  and  restored 
them  to  order  when  they  yielded  by  the  half-dozen  to 
the  fancy  that  some  one  had  ordered  a  cab,  and  started 
off  in  the  direction  of  their  vehicles,  and  then  rushed 
back  so  as  not  to  lose  other  chances.  The  sight  of 
Cornelia  standing  bag  in  hand  there,  seemed  to  drive 
them  to  a  frenzy  of  hope;  several  newsboys,  eager 
to  share  their  prosperity,  rushed  up  and  offered  her 
the  evening  papers. 

Cornelia  strained  forward  from  the  doorway  and 
tried  to  make  out,  in  the  kaleidoscopic  pattern  of  lights, 
which  was  the  Fourth  Avenue  car ;  the  street  was 
full  of  cars  and  carts  and  carriages,  all  going  every 
which  way,  with  a  din  of  bells,  and  wheels  and  hoofs 
that  was  as  if  crushed  to  one  dangerous  mass  by  the 
superior  uproar  of  the  railroad  trains  coming  and 
going  on  a  sort  of  street-roof  overhead.  A  sickening 
odor  came  from  the  mud  of  the  gutters  and  the  horses 
and  people,  and  as  if  a  wave  of  repulsion  had  struck 
against  every  sense  in  her,  the  girl  turned  and  fled 
from  the  sight  and  sound  and  smell  of  it  all  into  the 
ladies'  waiting-room  at  her  right. 

She  knew  about  that  room  from  Mrs.  Burton,  who 
had  said  she  could  go  in  there,  and  fix  her  hair  if  it 
had  got  tumbled,  when  she  came  off  the  train.  But  it 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  65 

had  been  so  easy  to  keep  everything  just  right  in  the 
nice  dressing-room  on  the  sleeper  that  she  had  ex 
pected  to  step  out  of  the  station  and  take  a  Fourth 
Avenue  car  without  going  into  the  ladies-room.  She 
found  herself  the  only  person  in  it,  except  a  comfort 
able,  friendly-looking,  middle-aged  woman,  who  seemed 
to  be  in  charge  of  the  place,  and  was  going  about  with 
a  dust-cloth  in  her  hand.  She  had  such  a  home-like 
air,  and  it  was  so  peaceful  there,  after  all  that  uproar 
outside,  that  Cornelia  could  hardly  keep  back  the 
tears,  though  she  knew  it  was  silly,  and  kept  saying 
so  to  herself  under  her  breath. 

She  put  her  hand-bag  down,  and  went  and  stood  at 
one  of  the  windows,  trying  to  make  up  her  mind  to 
venture  out ;  and  then  she  began  to  move  back  and 
forth  from  one  window  to  the  other.  It  must  have 
been  this  effect  of  restlessness  and  anxiety  that  made 
the  janitress  speak  to  her  at  last :  "  Expecting 
friends  to  meet  you  ?  " 

Cornelia  turned  round  and  took  a  good  look  at  the 
janitress.  She  decided  from  her  official  as  well  as  her 
personal  appearance  that  she  might  be  trusted,  as  least 
provisionally.  It  had  been  going  through  her  mind 
there  at  the  windows  what  a  fool  she  was  to  refuse  to 

let  Mr.  Ludlow  come  to  meet  her  with  that  friend  of 
5 


66  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

his,  and  she  had  been  helplessly  feigning  that  she  had 
not  refused,  and  that  he  was  really  coming,  hut  was  a 
little  late.  She  was  in  the  act  of  accepting  his 
apology  for  the  delay  when  the  janitress  spoke  to  her, 
and  she  said  :  "  I  don't  know  whether  I'd  better  wait 
any  longer.  I  was  looking  for  a  Fourth  Avenue  car." 

"  Well,  you  couldn't  hardly  miss  one,"  said  the  jani 
tress.  "  They're  going  all  the  time.  Stranger  in  the 
city?f' 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  Cornelia  admitted ;  she  thought  she 
had  better  admit  it. 

"  Well,"  said  the  janitress,  "  if  I  was  you  I'd  wait 
for  my  friends  a  while  longer.  It's  after  dark,  now, 
and  if  they  come  here  and  find  you  gone,  they'll  be 
uneasy,  won't  they  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Cornelia,  and  she  sank  submissively 
into  a  seat. 

The  janitress  sat  down  too.  "  Not  but  what  it's 
safe  enough,  and  you  needn't  be  troubled,  if  they 
don't  come.  You  can  go  half  an  hour  later  just  as 
well.  My !  I've  had  people  sit  here  all  day  and 
wait.  The  things  I've  seen  here,  well,  if  they  were 
put  into  a  story  you  couldn't  hardly  believe  them.  I 
had  a  poor  woman  come  in  here  one  morning  last 
week  with  a  baby  in  her  arms,  and  three  little  children 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  67 

hanging  round  her,  to  wait  for  her  husband ;  and  she 
waited  till  midnight,  and  he  didn't  come.  I  could 
have  told  her  first  as  well  as  last  that  he  wasn't  ever 
coming ;  I  knew  it  from  the  kind  of  a  letter  he  wrote 
her,  and  that  she  fished  up  out  of  her  pocket  to  show 
me,  so  as  to  find  whether  she  had  come  to  the  right 
place  to  wait,  or  not,  but  I  couldn't  bear  to  do  it ;  and 
I  did  for  her  and  the  children  as  well  as  I  could,  and 
•when  it  came  to  it,  about  twelve,  I  coaxed  her  to  go 
home,  and  come  again  in  the  morning.  She  didn't 
come  back  again ;  I  guess  she  began  to  suspect  some 
thing  herself." 

"  Why,  don't  you  suppose  he  ever  meant  to  come  ?  " 
Cornelia  asked,  tremulously. 

"/don't  know,"  said  the  janitress.  "I  didn't  tell 
her  so.  I've  had  all  kinds  of  homeless  folks  come  in 
here,  that  had  lost  their  pocket-books,  or  never  had 
any,  and  little  tots  of  children,  with  papers  pinned 
on  to  tell  me  who  they  were  expecting,  and  I've  had 
'em  here  on  my  hands  till  I  had  to  shut  up  at  night." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  then  ?  "  Cornelia  began  to 
be  anxious  about  her  own  fate,  in  case  she  should  not 
get  away  before  the  janitress  had  to  shut  up. 

*'  Well,  some  I  had  to  put  into  the  street,  them  that 
were  used  to  it ;  and  then  there  are  homes  of  all 


68  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

kinds  for  most  of  'em;  old  ladies'  homes,  and  young 
girls'  homes,  and  destitute  females'  homes,  and  child 
ren's  homes,  where  they  can  go  for  the  night,  and  all 
I've  got  to  do  is  to  give  an  order.  It  isn't  as  bad  as 
you'd  think,  when  you  first  come  to  the  city ;  I  came 
here  from  Connecticut." 

Cornelia  thought  she  might  respond  so  far  as  to 
say,  "  I'm  from  Ohio,"  and  the  janitress  seemed  to 
appreciate  the  confidence . 

She  said>  "  Not  on  your  way  to  the  White  House,  I 
suppose?  There  are  so  many  Presidents  from  your 
State.  Well,  I  knew  you  were  not  from  near  New 
York,  anywhere.  I  do  have  so  many  different  sorts  of 
folks  coming  in  here,  and  I  have  to  get  acquainted 
with  so  many  of  'em  whether  or  no.  Lots  of 
foreigners,  for  one  thing,  and  men  blundering  in,  as 
well  as  women.  They  think  it's  a  ticket-office,  and 
want  to  buy  tickets  of  me,  and  I  have  to  direct  'em 
where.  It's  surprising  how  bright  they  are,  often 
times.  The  Irish  are  the  hardest  to  get  pointed  right ; 
the  Italians  are  quick  ;  and  the  Chinese !  My,  they're 
the  brightest  of  all.  If  a  Chinaman  comes  in  for  a 
ticket  up  the  Harlem  road,  all  I've  got  to  do  is  to  set 
my  hand  so,  and  so!"  She  faced  south  and  set  her 
hand  westward ;  then  she  faced  west,  and  set  her  hand 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  69 

northward.  "  They  understand  in  a  minute,  and 
they're  off  like  a  flash." 

As  if  she  had  done  now  all  that  sympathy  de 
manded  for  Cornelia,  the  janitress  went  about  some 
work  in  another  part  of  the  room  and  left  the  girl  to 
herself.  But  Cornelia  knew  that  she  was  keeping  a 
friendly  eye  on  her,  and  in  the  shelter  of  her  presence, 
she  tried  to  gather  courage  to  make  that  start  into  the 
street  alone,  which  she  must  finally  make  and  which 
she  was  so  foolish  to  keep  postponing.  She  had 
written  to  the  landlady  of  her  boarding-house  that 
she  should  arrive  on  such  a  day,  at  such  an  hour; 
and  here  was  the  day,  and  she  was  letting  the  hour 
go  by,  and  very  likely  the  landlady  would  give  her 
room  to  some  one  else.  Or,  if  the  expressman  who 
took  her  check  on  the  train,  should  get  there  with 
her  trunk  first,  the  landlady  might  refuse  to  take  it. 
Cornelia  did  not  know  how  people  acted  about  such 
things  in  New  York.  She  ought  to  go,  and  she  tried 
to  rise  ;  but  she  was  morally  so  unable  that  it  was  as 
if  she  were  physically  unable. 

People  came  and  went ;  some  of  them  more  than 
once,  and  Cornelia  began  to  feel  that  they  noticed  her 
and  recognized  her,  but  still  she  could  not  move. 
Suddenly  a  figure  appeared  at  the  door,  the  sight  of 


70  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

which  armed  her  with  the  power  of  flight.  She  knew 
that  it  was  Ludlow,  from  the  photograph  he  had  lately 
sent  Mrs.  Burton,  with  the  pointed  beard  and  the 
branching  moustache  which  he  had  grown  since  they 
met  last,  and  she  jumped  up  to  rush  past  him  where  he 
stood  peering  sharply  round  at  the  different  faces  in 
the  room,  and  finally  letting  his  eyes  rest  in  eager 
question  on  hers. 

He  came  towards  her,  and  then  it  was  too  late  to 
escape.  "  Miss  Saunders  ?  Oh,  I'm  so  glad !  I've 
been  out  of  town,  and  I've  only  just  got  Mrs.  Burton's 
telegram.  Have  I  kept  you  waiting  long  ?  " 

"  Not  very,"  said  Cornelia.  She  might  have  said 
that  he  had  not  kept  her  waiting  at  all ;  the  time  that 
she  had  waited,  without  being  kept  by  him,  was  now 
like  no  time  at  all ;  but  she  could  not  say  anything 
more,  and  she  wished  to  cry,  she  felt  so  glad  and  safe 
in  his  keeping.  He  caught  up  her  bag,  and  she  fol 


lowed  him  out,  with  a  blush  over  her  shoulder  for  the 
janitress,  who  smiled  after  her  with  mistaken  know- 
ingness.  But  this  was  at  least  her  self-delusion,  and 
Cornelia  had  an  instant  in  the  confusion  when  it 
seemed  as  if  Ludlow's  coming  had  somehow  annulled 
the  tacit  deceit  she  had  practised  in  letting  the  jani 
tress  suppose  she  expected  some  one. 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  71 

Ludlow  kept  talking  to  her  all  the  way  in  the 
horse-car,  but  she  could  find  only  the  briefest  and  dry- 
est  answers  to  his  friendly  questions  about  her  mother 
and  the  Burtons ;  and  all  Pymantoning ;  and  she 
could  not  blame  him  for  taking  such  a  hasty  leave  of 
her  at  her  boarding-house  that  he  almost  flew  down 
the  steps  before  the  door  closed  upon  her. 

She  knew  that  she  had  disgusted  him ;  and  she 
hinted  at  this  in  the  letter  of  scolding  gratitude  which 
she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Burton  before  she  slept,  for  the 
trick  she  had  played  her.  After  all,  though,  she 
reasoned,  she  need  not  be  so  much  troubled  :  he  had 
done  it  for  Mrs.  Burton,  and  not  for  her,  and  he  had 
not  thought  it  worth  while  to  bring  a  chaperon.  To 
be  sure,  he  had  no  time  for  that ;  but  there  was  some 
thing  in  it  all  which  put  Cornelia  back  to  the  mere 
child  she  was  when  they  first  met  in  the  Fair  House  at 
Pymantoning ;  she  kept  seeing  herself  angry  and  ill- 
mannered  and  cross  to  her  mother,  and  it  was  as  if  he 
saw  her  so,  too.  She  resented  that,  for  she  knew  that 
she  was  another  person  now,  and  she  tingled  with  vex 
ation  that  she  had  done  nothing  to  make  him  realize  it. 


XI. 

LUDLOW  caught  a  cab  in  the  street,  and  drove  furi 
ously  to  his  lodging,  where  he  dressed  in  ten  minutes, 
so  that  he  was  not  more  than  fifteen  minutes  late  at 
the  dinner  he  had  risked  missing  for  Cornelia's  sake. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  very  late,"  he  said,  from  his  place 
at  the  left  of  his  hostess ;  he  pulled  his  napkin  across 
his  lap,  and  began  to  attack  his  oysters  at  once. 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,"  said  the  lady,  but  he  knew  that 
she  would  have  said  much  the  same  if  he  had  come  as 
they  were  rising  from  table. 

A  clear,  gay  voice  rose  from  the  corner  of  the  board 
diagonally  opposite :  "  The  candles  haven't  begun  to 
burn  their  shades  yet ;  so  you  are  still  early,  Mr.  Lud- 
low." 

The  others  laughed  with  the  joy  people  feel  in  hav 
ing  a  familiar  fact  noted  for  the  first  time.  They  had 
all  seen  candle-shades  weakly  topple  down  on  the 
flames  and  take  fire  at  dinner. 

The  gay  voice  went  on,  rendered,  perhaps,  a  little 
over-bold  by  success :  "  If  you  see  the  men  rising  to 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  73 

put  them  out,  you  may  be  sure  that  they've  been 
seated  exactly  an  hour." 

Ludlow  looked  across  the  bed  of  roses  which  filled 
two-thirds  of  the  table,  across  the  glitter  of  glass,  and 
the  waver  of  light  and  shadow,  and  said,  "  Oh,  you're 
there !  " 

The  wit  that  had  inspired  the  voice  before  gave  out ; 
the  owner  tried  to  make  a  pout  do  duty  for  it.  "  Of 
course  I'm  there,"  she  said  ;  then  pending  another  in 
spiration  she  was  silent.  Everybody  waited  for  her  to 
rise  again  to  the  level  of  her  reputation  for  clever 
things,  and  the  general  expectation  expressed  itself  in 
a  subdued  creaking  of  stiff  linen  above  the  board,  and 
the  low  murmur  of  silken  skirts  under  the  table. 

Finally  one  of  the  men  said,  "  Well,  it's  bad  enough 
to  come  late,  but  it's  a  good  deal  worse  to  come  too 
early.  I'd  rather  come  late,  any  time." 

"Mr.  Wetmore  wants  you  to  ask  him  why,  Mrs. 
"Westley,"  said  Ludlow. 

Mrs.  Westley  entreated,  "  Oh,  why,  Mr.  Wet- 
more  ?  "  and  every  one  laughed. 

"  All  right,  Ludlow,"  said  the  gentleman  in  friendly 
menace.  Then  he  answered  Mrs.  Westley :  "  Well, 
one  thing,  your  hostess  respects  you  more.  If  you 
come  too  early  you  bring  reproach  and  you  meet  con- 


74  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

tempt ;  reproach  that  she  shouldn't  have  been  ready  to 
receive  you,  and  contempt  that  you  should  have  sup 
posed  her  capable  of  dining  at  the  hour  fixed." 

It  was  a  Mrs.  Rangeley  who  had  launched  the  first 
shaft  at  Ludlow  ;  she  now  fitted  another  little  arrow  to 
her  string,  under  cover  of  the  laugh  that  followed 
Mr.  Wetmore's  reasons.  "  I  shouldn't  object  to  any 
one's  coming  late,  unless  I  were  giving  the  dinner ;  but 
what  I  can't  bear  is  wondering  what  it  was  kept 
them." 

Again  she  had  given  a  touch  that  reminded  the 
company  of  their  common  humanity  and  their  unity  of 
emotion,  and  the  laugh  that  responded  was  without 
any  of  that  reservation  or  uncertainty  which  a  subtle 
observer  may  often  detect  in  the  enjoyment  of 
brilliant  things  said  at  dinner.  But  the  great  charm 
of  the  Westley  dinners  was  that  people  generally  did 
understand  each  other  there.  If  you  made  a  joke,  as 
Wetmore  said,  you  were  not  often  required  to  spell  it. 
He  celebrated  the  Westleys  as  ideal  hosts  :  Mrs.  West- 
ley  had  the  youth  and  beauty  befitting  a  second  wife  ; 
her  social  ambition  had  as  yet  not  developed  into  the 
passion  for  millionnaires ;  she  was  simply  content 
with  painters,  like  himself  and  Ludlow,  literary  men, 
lawyers,  doctors  and  their  several  wives. 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  75 

General  Westley  was  in  what  Wetmore  called  the 
bloom  of  age.  He  might  be  depended  upon  for  the 
unexpected,  like  fate.  He  occasionally  did  it,  he 
occasionally  said  it,  from  the  passive  hospitality  that 
characterized  him. 

"I  believe  I  share  that  impatience  of  yours,  Mrs. 
Rangeley,"  he  now  remarked ;  "  though  in  the  present 
case  I  think  we  ought  to  leave  everything  to  Mr.  Lud- 
low's  conscience." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  that  would  be  quite  safe  ?  "  she 
asked  with  burlesque  seriousness.  "  Well !  If  we 
must!" 

Ludlow  said,  "  Why,  I  think  Mrs.  Rangeley  is  right. 
I  would  much  rather  yield  to  compulsion.  I  don't 
mind  telling  what  kept  me,  if  I'm  obliged  to." 

"  Oh,  I  almost  hate  to  have  you,  now !  "  Mrs. 
Rangeley  bubbled  back.  "  Your  willingness,  some 
how,  makes  it  awful.  You  may  be  going  to  boast 
of  it!" 

"  No,  no !  "  Wetmore  interposed.  "  I  don't  believe 
it's  anything  to  boast  of." 

"  Now,  you  see,  you  must  speak,"  said  Mrs.  West- 
ley. 

Ludlow  fell  back  in  his  chair,  and  dreamily  crumbled 
his  bread.  "  I  don't  see  how  I  can,  exactly." 


76  THE    COA.ST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

Wetmore  leaned  forward  and  looked  at  Ludlow 
round  the  snowy  shoulder  of  a  tall  lady  next  him. 

"Is  there  any  particular  form  of  words  in  which 
you  like  to  be  prompted,  when  you  get  to  this  point  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Brayton  might  hypnotize  him,"  suggested  the 
lady  whose  shoulder  Wetmore  was  looking  round. 

The  doctor  answered  across  the  table,  "In  these 
cases  of  the  inverted  or  prostrated  will,  there  is  often 
not  volition  enough  to  cooperate  with  the  hypno- 
tizer.  I  don't  believe  I  could  do  anything  with  Mr. 
Ludlowo" 

"How  much,"  sighed  Mrs.  Rangeley,  "I  should 
like  to  be  the  centre  of  universal  interest  like  that !  " 

"  It's  a  good  pose,"  said  "Wetmore ;  "  but  really  I 
think  Ludlow  is  working  it  too  hard.  I  don't  approve 
of  mob  violence,  as  the  papers  say  when  they're  going 
to ;  but  if  he  keeps  this  up  'much  longer  I  won't  be 
answerable  for  the  consequences.  I  feel  that  we  are 
getting  beyond  the  control  of  our  leaders." 

Ludlow  was  tempted  to  exploit  the  little  incident 
with  Cornelia,  for  he  felt  sure  that  it  would  win  the 
dinner-table  success  which  we  all  like  to  achieve.  Her 
coming  to  study  art  in  New  York,  and  her  arriving  in 
that  way,  was  a  pretty  romance ;  prettier  than  it  would 
have  been  if  she  were  plainer,  and  he  knew  that  he 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  77 

could  give  the  whole  situation  so  that  she  should 
appear  charming,  and  should  appeal  to  everybody's 
sympathy.  If  he  could  show  her  stiff  and  hlunt,  as 
she  was,  so  much  the  better.  He  would  go  back  to 
their  first  meeting,  and  bring  in  a  sketch  of  Pyman- 
toning  County  Fair,  and  of  the  village  itself  and  its 
social  conditions,  with  studies  of  Burton  and  his  wife. 
Every  point  would  tell,  for  though  his  commensals 
were  now  all  well-to-do  New  Yorkers,  he  knew  that 
the  time  had  been  with  them  when  they  lived  closer  to 
the  ground,  in  simple  country  towns,  as  most  prosper 
ous  and  eminent  Americans  have  done. 

"  Well,"  said  Wetmore,  "  how  long  are  you  going  to 
make  us  wait  ?  " 

" Oh,  you  mustn't  wait  for  me"  said  Ludlow. 
"  Once  is  enough  to-night.  I'm  not  going  to  say  what 
kept  me." 

This  also  was  a  success  in  its  way.  It  drew  cries  of 
protest  and  reproach  from  the  ladies,  and  laughter 
from  the  men.  Wetmore  made  himself  heard  above 
the  rest.  "  Mrs.  Westley,  I  know  this  man,  and 
I  can't  let  you  be  made  the  victim  of  one  of  his 
shameless  fakes.  There  was  really  nothing  kept  him. 
He  either  forgot  the  time,  or,  what  is  more  probable, 
he  deliberately  put  off  coming  so  as  to  give  himself  a 


78  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

little  momentary  importance  by  arriving  late.  I  don't 
wish  to  be  hard  upon  him,  but  that  is  the  truth." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  hostess  in  the  applause  which 
recognized  Wetmore's  mischievous  intent.  "  I'll  not 
believe  anything  of  the  kind."  From  her  this  had  the 
effect  of  repartee,  and  when  she  asked  with  the  single- 
heartedness  which  Wetmore  had  praised  among  her 
friends  as  her  strongest  point,  and  advised  her  keeping 
up  as'  long  as  she  possibly  could,  "  It  isn't  so,  is  it, 
Mr.  Ludlow  ? "  the  finest  wit  could  not  have  done 
more  for  her.  The  general  beamed  upon  her  over  the 
length  of  the  table.  Mrs.  Rangeley  said  at  his  elbow, 
"  She's  always  more  charming  than  any  one  else,  sim 
ply  because  she  is"  and  he  made  no  effort  to  turn  the 
compliment  upon  her  as  she  thought  he  might  very 
well  have  done. 

Under  cover  of  what  the  others  now  began  saying 
about  different  matters,  Ludlow  murmured  to  Mrs. 
Westley,  "  I  don't  mind  telling  you.  You  know  that 
young  girl  you  said  you  would  go  with  me  to  meet 
when  I  should  ask  you  ?  " 

"  The  little  school-mistress  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Ludlow  smiled.  "  She  isn't  so  very  little, 
any  more.  It  was  she  who  kept  me.  I  found  a 
dispatch  at  my  place  when  I  got  home  to-day,  telling 


THE    COAST.  OF    BOHEMIA.  79 

me  «he  was  coming,  and  would  arrive  at  six,  and  there 
was  no  time  to  trouble  you ;  it  was  half-past  when 
I  got  it." 

"  She's  actually  come  then  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Westlay. 
*'  Nothing  you  could  say  would  stop  her  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ludlow  with  a  shrug.  He  addedj  after 
a  moment,  "But  I  don't  know  that  I  blame  her. 
Nothing  would  have  stopped  me" 

"  And  is  there  anything  else  I  can  do  ?  Has  she  a 
pleasant  place  to  stay  ?  " 

"Good  enough,  1  fancy.  It's  a  boarding-house 
where  several  people  I  know  have  been.  She  must  be 
left  to  her  own  devices,  now.  That's  the  best  thing 
for  her.  It's  the  only  thing." 


XII. 

IN  spite  of  his  theory  as  to  what  was  best  for  her, 
in  some  ways  Ludlow  rather  expected  that  Cornelia 
would  apply  to  him  for  advice  as  to  how  and  where  she 
should  begin  work.  He  forgot  how  fully  he  had 
already  given  it ;  but  she  had  not.  She  remembered 
what  she  had  overheard  him  say  to  her  mother,  that 
day  in  the  Fair  House,  about  the  superiority  of  the 
Synthesis  of  Studies,  and  she  had  since  confirmed  her 
faith  in  his  judgment  by  much  silent  inquiry  of  the 
newspapers.  They  had  the  Sunday  edition  of  the 
Lakeland  Light  at  Pymantoning,  and  Cornelia  had 
kept  herself  informed  of  the  "  Gossip  of  the  Ateliers," 
and  concerning  "  Women  and  Artists,"  "  Artists'  Sum 
mer  Homes,"  "  Phases  of  Studio  Life,"  "  The  Ladies 
who  are  Organizing  Ceramic  Clubs,"  "  Women  Art 
Students,"  "  Glimpses  of  the  Dens  of  New  York 
Women  Artists,"  and  other  aesthetic  interests  which 
the  Sunday  edition  of  the  Light  purveyed  with  the 
newspaper  syndicate's  generous  and  indiscriminate 
abundance.  She  did  not  believe  it  all ;  much  of  it 


THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA.  81 

seemed  to  her  very  silly ;  but  she  nourished  her  ambi 
tion  upon  it  all  the  same. 

The  lady  writers  who  -celebrated  the  lady  artists, 
and  who  mostly  preferred  to  swim  in  seas  of  personal 
float,  did  now  and  then  offer  their  readers  a  basis  of 
solid  fact ;  and  they  all  agreed  that  the  Synthesis  of 
Art  Studies  was  the  place  for  a  girl  if  she  was  in  ear 
nest  and  wished  to  work. 

As  these  ladies  described  them  the  conditions  were 
of  the  exacting  sort  which  Cornelia's  nature  craved, 
and  she  had  her  sex-pride  in  the  Synthesis,  too,  because 
she  had  read  that  women  had  borne  an  important  part 
in  founding  it ;  the  strictest  technical  training  and  the 
freest  spirit  of  artistic  endeavor  prevailed  in  a  school 
that  owed  its  existence  so  largely  to  them.  That  was 
a  great  point,  even  if  every  one  of  the  instructors  was 
a  man.  She  supposed  that  Mr.  Ludlow  would  have 
sheltered  himself  behind  this  fact  if  she  had  used  the 
other  to  justify  herself  in  going  on  with  art  after  he 
had  urged  that  as  a  woman,  she  had  better  not  do  so. 
But  the  last  thing  Cornelia  intended  was  to  justify  her 
self  to  Mr.  Ludlow,  and  she  vehemently  wished  he 
would  not  try  to  do  anything  more  for  her,  now. 
After  sleeping  upon  the  facts  of  their  meeting  she  felt 
cure  that  he  would  not  try.  She  approved  of  herself 


82  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

for  not  having  asked  him  to  call  in  parting.  She  was 
almost  glad  that  he  hardly  had  given  her  a  chance  to 
do  so. 

It  was  Saturday  night  when  Cornelia  arrived,  and 
she  spent  Sunday  writing  home  a  full  account  of  her 
adventures  to  her  mother,  whom  she  asked  to  give 
Mrs.  Burton  the  note  she  enclosed,  and  in  looking 
over  her  drawings,  and  trying  to  decide  which  she 
should  take  to  the  Synthesis  with  her.  She  had  a 
good  deal  of  tacit  argument  about  them  with  Mr. 
Ludlow,  who  persisted  in  her  thoughts  after  several 
definitive  dismissals ;  and  Monday  morning  she  pre 
sented  herself  with  some  drawings  she  had  chosen  as 
less  ridiculous  than  some  of  the  others,  and  hovered 
with  a  haughty  humility  at  the  door  of  the  little  office 
till  the  janitor  asked  her  if  she  would  not  come  in  and 
sit  down.  He  had  apparently  had  official  experience 
of  cases  like  hers ;  he  refused  without  surprise  the 
drawings  which  she  offered  him  as  her  credentials,  and 
said  the  secretary  would  be  in  directly.  He  did  not  go 
so  far  as  to  declare  his  own  quality,  but  he  hospitably 
did  what  he  could  to  make  her  feel  at  home. 

Numbers  of  young  people  began  to  appear,  singly 
and  in  twos  and  threes,  and  then  go  out  again,  and  go 
on  up  the  stairs  which  led  crookedly  to  and  from  the 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  83 

corner  the  office  was  cramped  into.  Some  of  them 
went  up  stairs  after  merely  glancing  into  the  office, 
others  found  letters  there,  and  staid  chatting  awhile. 
They  looked  at  Cornelia  with  merely  an  identifying 
eye,  at  first,  as  if  they  perceived  that  she  was  a  new 
girl,  but  as  if  new  girls  were  such  an  old  story  that 
they  could  not  linger  long  over  one  girl  of  the  kind. 
Certain  of  the  young  ladies  after  they  went  up  stairs 
came  down  in  long,  dismal  calico  aprons  that  covered 
them  to  the  throat,  and  with  an  air  of  being  so  much 
absorbed  in  their  work  that  they  did  not  know  what 
they  had  on.  They  looked  at  Cornelia  again,  those 
who  had  seen  her  before,  and  those  who  had  not, 
made  up  for  it  by  looking  at  her  twice,  and  Cornelia 
began  to  wonder  if  there  was  anything  peculiar  about 
her,  as  she  sat  upright,  stiffening  with  resentment  and 
faintly  flushing  under  their  scrutiny.  She  wore  her 
best  dress,  which  was  a  street  dress,  as  the  best  dress 
of  a  village  girl  usually  is ;  her  mother  had  fitted  it, 
and  they  had  made  it  themselves,  and  agreed  that  it 
was  very  becoming ;  Mrs.  Burton  had  said  so,  too. 
The  fashion  of  her  hat  she  was  not  so  sure  about,  but 
it  was  a  pretty  hat,  and  unless  she  had  get  it  on  skewy, 
and  she  did  not  believe  she  had,  there  was  nothing 
about  it  to  make  people  stare  so.  There  was  one  of 


84  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

these  girls,  whom  Cornelia  felt  to  be  as  tall  as  herself, 
and  of  much  her  figure ;  she  was  as  dark  as  Cornelia, 
but  of  a  different  darkness.  Instead  of  the  red  that 
always  lurked  under  the  dusk  in  Cornelia's  cheeks, 
and  that  now  burned  richly  through  it,  her  face  was 
of  one  olive  pallor,  except  her  crimson  lips  ;  her  long 
eyes  were  black,  with  level  brows,  and  with  a  heavy 
fringe  of  lucent  black  hair  cut  straight  above  them ; 
her  nose  was  straight,  at  first  glance,  but  showed  a 
slight  arch  in  profile ;  her  mouth  was  a  little  too  full, 
and  her  chin  slightly  retreated.  She  came  in  late,  and 
stopped  at  the  door  of  the  office,  and  bent  upon  Cor 
nelia  a  look  at  once  prehistoric  and  Jin  de  siecle,  which 
lighted  up  with  astonishment,  interest  and  sympathy, 
successively ;  then  she  went  trailing  herself  on  up 
stairs  with  her  strange  Sphinx-face  over  her  shoulder, 
and  turned  upon  Cornelia  as  long  as  she  could  see  her. 
At  last  a  gentleman  came  in  and  sat  down  behind 
the  table  in  the  corner,  and  Cornelia  found  a  hoarse 
voice  to  ask  him  if  he  was  the  secretary.  He 
answered  in  the  friendly  way  that  she  afterwards 
found  went  all  through  the  Synthesis,  that  he  was,  and 
she  said,  with  her  country  bluntness,  that  she  wished 
to  study  at  the  Synthesis,  and  she  had  brought  some 
of  her  drawings  with  her,  if  he  wanted  to  look  at 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  OO 

them.  He  took  them,  but  either  he  did  not  want  to 
look  at  them,  or  else  it  was  not  his  affair  to  do  so. 
He  said  she  would  have  to  fill  out  a  form,  and  he 
gave  her  a  blank  which  asked  her  in  print  a  number 
of  questions  she  had  not  thought  of  asking  herself  till 
then.  It  obliged  her  to  confess  that  she  had  never 
studied  under  any  one  before,  and  to  say  which  master 
in  the  Synthesis  she  would  like  to  study  under,  now. 
She  had  to  choose  between  life,  and  still-life,  and  the 
antique,  and  she  chose  the  antique.  She  was  not  gov 
erned  by  any  knowledge  or  desire  in  her  choice  more 
definite  than  such  as  come  from  her  having  read  some 
where  that  the  instructor  in  the  antique  was  the  sever 
est  of  all  the  Synthesis  instructors,  and  the  most 
dreaded  in  his  criticisms  by  the  students.  She  did  not 
forget,  even  in  the  presence  of  the  secretary,  and  with 
that  bewildering  blank  before  her,  that  she  wished  to 
be  treated  with  severity,  and  that  the  criticism  she 
needed  was  the  criticism  that  every  one  dreaded. 

When  the  secretary  fastened  her  application  to  her 
drawings,  she  asked  if  she  should  wait  to  learn 
whether  it  was  accepted  or  not ;  but  he  said  that  he 
would  send  her  application  to  the  Members'  Room,  and 
the  instructor  would  see  it  there  in  the  morning.  She 
would  have  liked  to  ask  him  if  she  should  come  back 


86  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

there  to  find  out,  but  she  was  afraid  to  do  it;  he 
might  say  no,  and  then  she  should  not  know  what  to 
do.  She  determined  to  come  without  his  leave,  and 
the  next  morning  she  found  that  the  master  whom 
they  had  been  submitted  to  had  so  far  approved  her 
drawings  as  to  have  scrawled  upon  her  application, 
"  Recommended  to  the  Preparatory."  The  secretary 
said  the  instructor  in  the  Preparatory  would  tell  her 
which  grade  to  enter  there. 

Cornelia's  heart  danced,  but  she  governed  herself 
outwardly,  and  asked  through  her  set  teeth,  "  Can 
I  begin  at  once  ?  "  She  had  lost  one  day  already,  and 
she  was  not  going  to  lose  another  if  she  could  help  it. 

The  secretary  smiled.  "If  the  instructor  in  the 
Preparatory  will  place  you." 

Before  noon  she  had  passed  the  criticism  needed  for 
this,  and  was  in  the  lowest  grade  of  the  Preparatory. 
But  she  was  a  student  at  the  Synthesis,  and  she  was 
there  to  work  in  the  way  that  those  who  knew  best 
bade  her.  She  wished  to  endure  hardness,  and  the 
more  hardness  the  better. 


XIII. 

CORNELIA  found  herself  in  the  last  of  a  long  line 
of  sections  or  stalls  which  flanked  a  narrow  corridor 
dividing  the  girl  students  from  the  young  men,  who 
were  often  indeed  hardly  more  than  boys.  There  was 
a  table  stretching  from  this  corridor  to  a  window  look 
ing  down  on  the  roofs  of  some  carpenter  shops  and 
stables ;  on  the  board  before  her  lay  the  elementary 
shape  of  a  hand  in  plaster,  which  she  was  trying  to 
draw.  At  her  side  that  odd-looking  girl,  who  had 
stared  so  at  her  on  the  stairs  the  day  before,  was  work 
ing  at  a  block  foot,  and  not  getting  it  very  well.  She 
had  in  fact  given  it  up  for  the  present  and  was  watch 
ing  Cornelia's  work  and  watching  her  face,  and  talk 
ing  to  her. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  she  broke  off  to  ask,  in 
the  midst  of  a  monologue  upon  the  social  customs  and 
characteristics  of  the  Synthesis. 

Cornelia  always  frowned,  and  drew  her  breath  in 
long  sibillations,  when  she  was  trying  hard  to  get  a 
thing  right.  She  now  turned  a  knotted  forehead 


88  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

on  her  companion,  but  stopped  her  hissing  to  ask, 
"  What  ?  "  Then  she  came  to  herself  and  said,  "  Oh  ! 
Saunders." 

"  I  don't  mean  your  last  name,"  said  the  other,  "  I 
mean  your  first  name." 

"  Cornelia,"  said  the  owner  of  it,  as  briefly  as  be 
fore. 

"I  should  have  thought  it  would  have  been  Gladys," 
the  other  suggested. 

Cornelia  looked  up  in  astonishment  and  some  resent 
ment.  "Why  in  the  world  should  my  name  be 
Gladys  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  I  don't  know,"  the  other  explained.  "  But  the 
first  moment  I  saw  you  in  the  office,  I  said  to  myself, 
'  Of  course  her  name  is  Gladys.'  Mine  is  Charmian." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  said  Cornelia,  not  so  much  with  preoccupa 
tion,  perhaps,  as  with  indifference.  She  thought  it 
rather  a  nice  name,  but  she  did  not  know  what  she  had 
to  do  with  it. 

"Yes,"  the  other  said,  as  if  she  had  somehow  ex 
pected  to  be  doubted.  "  My  last  name's  Maybough." 
Cornelia  kept  on  at  her  work  without  remark,  and 
Miss  Maybough  pursued,  as  if  it  were  a  branch  of 
autobiography,  "  I'm  going  to  have  lunch ;  aren't 
you?" 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  89 

Cornelia  sighed  dreamily,  as  she  drew  back  for  an 
effect  of  her  drawing,  which  she  held  up  on  the  table 
before  her,  "  Is  it  time  ?  " 

"  Do  you  suppose  they  would  be  letting  me  talk  so  to 
you  if  it  weren't  ?  The  monitor  would  have  been 
down  on  me  long  ago." 

Cornelia  had  noticed  a  girl  who  seemed  to  be  in 
authority,  and  who  sat  where  she  could  oversee  and 
overhear  all  that  went  on. 

"  Is  she  one  of  the  students  ?  "  she  asked. 

Miss  Maybough  nodded.  "  Elected  every  month. 
She's  awful.  You  can't  do  anything  with  her  when 
she's  on  duty,  but  she's  a  little  dear  when  she  isn't". 
You'll  like  her."  Miss  Maybough  leaned  toward  her, 
and  joined  Cornelia  in  a  study  of  her  drawing.  "  How 
splendidly  you're  getting  it.  It's  very  chic.  Oh^ 
anybody  can  see  that  you've  got  genius  !  " 

Her  admiration  made  no  visible  impression  upon  Cor 
nelia,  and  for  a  moment  she  looked  a  little  disappointed ; 
then  she  took  a  basket  from  under  the  table,  and 
drew  from  it  a  bottle  of  some  yellowish  liquid,  an  orange 
and  a  bit  of  sponge  cake.  "  Are  you  going  to  have 
yours  here  ?  "  she  asked,  as  Cornelia  opened  a  paper 
with  the  modest  sandwich  in  it  which  she  had  made  at 
breakfast,  and  fetched  from  her  boarding-house.  "  Oh, 


90  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

I'm  so  glad  you  haven't  brought  anything  to  drink 
with  you!  I  felt  almost  sure  you  hadn't,  and  now 
you've  got  to  share  mine."  She  took  a  cup  from  her 
basket,  and  in  spite  of  Cornelia's  protest  that  she  never 
drank  anything  but  water  at  dinner,  she  poured  it  full 
of  tea  for  her.  "I'll  drink  out  of  the  bottle,"  she 
said.  "  I  like  to.  Some  of  the  girls  bring  chocolate, 
but  I  think  there's  nothing  like  cold  tea  for  the  brain. 
Chocolate's  so  clogging;  so's  milk;  but  sometimes  I 
bring  that ;  it's  glorious,  drinking  it  out  of  the  can." 
She  tilted  the  bottle  to  her  lips,  and  half  drained  it  at 
a  draught.  "  I  always  feel  that  I'm  working  with  in 
spiration  after  I've  had  my  cold  tea.  Of  course  they 
won't  let  you  stay  here  long,"  she  added. 

"  Why  ?  "  Cornelia  fluttered  back  in  alarm. 

"When  they  see  your  work  they'll  see  that  you're 
fit  for  still-life,  at  least." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Cornelia,  vexed  at  having  been  scared 
for  nothing.  "  I  guess  they  won't  be  in  any  great 
hurry  about  it." 

"  How  magnificent !  "  said  Miss  Maybough.  "  Of 
course,  with  that  calm  of  yours,  you  can  wait,  as 
if  you  had  eternity  before  you.  Do  you  know  that 
you  are  terribly  calm  ?  " 

Cornelia  turned  and  gave  her  a  long  stare.     Miss 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA  91 

Maybough  broke  her  bit  of  cake  in  two,  and  offered 
her  half,  and  Cornelia  took  it  mechanically,  but  ate  her 
sandwich.  "  /  feel  as  if  I  had  eternity  behind  me, 
I've  been  in  the  Preparatory  so  long." 

On  the  common  footing  this  drop  to  the  solid  ground 
gave,  Cornelia  asked  her  how  long. 

"  Well,  it's  the  beginning  of  my  second  year,  now. 
If  they  don't  let  me  go  to  round  hands  pretty  soon,  I 
shall  have  to  see  if  I  can't  get  the  form  by  modelling. 
That's  the  best  way.  I  suppose  it's  my  imagination  ; 
it  carries  me  away  so,  and  I  don't  see  the  thing  as  it  is 
before  me ;  that's  what  they  say.  But  with  the  clay, 
I'll  have  to,  don't  you  know.  Well,  you  know  some  of 
the  French  painters  model  their  whole  picture  in  clay 
and  paint  it,  before  they  touch  the  canvas,  any 
way.  I  shall  try  it  here  awhile  longer,  and  then 
if  I  can't  get  to  the  round  in  any  other  way,  I'll  take 
to  the  clay.  If  sculpture  concentrates  you  more, 
perhaps  I  may  stick  to  it  altogether.  Art  is  one,  any 
how,  and  the  great  thing  is  to  live  it.  Don't  you 
think  so  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Cornelia.  "  I'm  not  certain  I 
know  what  you  mean." 

"You  will,"  said  Miss  Maybough,  "after  you've 
been  here  awhile,  and  get  used  to  the  atmosphere.  I 


92  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

don't  believe  I  really  knew  what  life  meant  before  I 
came  to  the  Synthesis.  When  you  get  to  realizing  the 
standards  of  the  Synthesis,  then  you  begin  to  breathe 
freely  for  the  first  time.  I  expect  to  pass  the  rest  of 
my  days  here.  I  shouldn't  care  if  I  stayed  till  I  was 
thirty.  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"I'm  going  on  twenty,"  said  Cornelia.     "  Why?" 

"  Oh,  nothing.  You  can't  begin  too  young ;  though 
some  people  think  you  oughtn't  to  come  before  you're 
eighteen.  I  look  upon  my  days  before  I  came  here  as 
simply  wasted.  Don't  you  want  to  go  out  and  sit  on 
the  stairs  awhile  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  I  do,"  said  Cornelia,  taking  up  her 
drawing  again,  as  if  she  were  going  on  with  it. 

"  Horrors ! "  Miss  Maybough  put  her  hand  out 
over  the  sketch.  "  You  don't  mean  that  you're  going 
to  carry  it  any  farther  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  isn't  finished  yet,"  Cornelia  began. 

"  Of  course  it  isn't,  and  it  never  ought  to  be !  I 
hope  you're  not  going  to  turn  out  a  Higgler !  Please 
don't!  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  you.  Nobody  will 
respect  you  if  you  finish.  Don't !  If  you  won't  come 
out  with  me  and  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  do  start 
a  new  drawing !  I  want  them  to  see  this  in  the  rough. 
It's  so  bold." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  93 

Miss  Maybough  had  left  her  own  drawing  in  the 
rough,  but  it  could  not  be  called  bold ;  though  if  she 
had  seen  the  block  hand  with  a  faltering  eye,  she 
seemed  to  have  had  a  fearless  vision  of  many  other 
things,  and  she  had  covered  her  paper  with  a  fantastic 
medley  of  grotesque  shapes,  out  of  that  imagination 
which  she  had  given  Cornelia  to  know  was  so  fatally 
mischievous  to  her  in  its  uninvited  activities.  "  Don't 
look  at  them ! "  she  pleaded,  when  Cornelia  involun 
tarily  glanced  at  her  study.  "My  only  hope  is  to 
hate  them.  I  almost  pray  to  be  delivered  from  them. 
Let's  talk  of  something  else."  She  turned  the  sheet 
over.  "  Do  you  mind  my  having  said  that  about  your 
drawing  ?  " 

"  No !  "  said  Cornelia,  provoked  to  laughter  by  the 
solemnity  of  the  demand.  "  Why  should  I  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Do  you  think  you  shall  like 
me  ?  I  mean,  do  you  care  if  I  like  you  —  very,  very 
much  ?  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  I  could  stop  it  if  I  did,  could  I  ?  " 
asked  Cornelia. 

The  Sphinx  seemed  to  find  heart  to  smile.  "  Of 
course,  I'm  ridiculous.  But  I  do  hope  we're  going  to 
be  friends.  Tell  me  about  yourself.  Or,  have  some 
more  teal " 


XIV. 

"  I  DON'T  want  any  more  tea,  thank  you,"  said 
Cornelia,  "and  there  isn't  anything  to  tell." 

"  There  must  be  !  "  the  other  girl  insisted,  clinging 
to  her  bottle  with  tragic  intensity.  "  Any  one  can  see 
that  you've  lived.  What  part  of  the  country  did  you 
come  from  ?  " 

"  Ohio,"  said  Cornelia,  as  the  best  way  to  be  done 
with  it. 

"  And  have  you  ever  been  in  Santa  Fe  ?  " 

"  Goodness,  no  !     Why,  it's  in  New  Mexico !  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  was  born  there.  Then  my  father  went  to 
Colorado.  He  isn't  living,  now.  Are  your  father 
and  mother  living  ?  " 

"My  mother  is,"  said  Cornelia;  the  words  brought 
up  a  vision  of  her  mother,  as  she  must  be  sitting  that 
moment  in  the  little  front-room,  and  a  mist  came  sud 
denly  before  her  eyes  ;  she  shut  her  lips  hard  to  keep 
them  from  trembling. 

"I  see,  you  worship  her,"  said  Miss  Maybough  fer 
vidly,  keeping  her  gaze  fixed  upon  Cornelia.  "  You 
are  homesick !  " 


"  MY    MOTHER    HAD    INDIAN    BLOOD  " 


THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA.  95 

"  I'm  not  homesick  !  "  said  Cornelia,  angry  that  she 
should  be  so  and  that  she  should  be  denying  it. 

"Mine,"  said  the  other,  "died  while  I  was  a  baby. 
She  had  Indian  blood,"  she  added  in  the  same  way  in 
which  she  had  said  her  name  was  Charmian. 

"  Did  she  ?  "  Cornelia  asked. 

"  That  is  the  legend,"  said  Miss  Maybough  solemnly. 
"  Her  grandmother  was  a  Zuni  princess."  She  turned 
her  profile.  "  See  ?  " 

"  It  does  look  a  little  Indian,"  said  Cornelia. 

"  Some  people  think  it's  Egyptian,"  Miss  Maybough 
suggested,  as  if  she  had  been  leading  up  to  the  notion, 
and  were  anxious  not  to  have  it  ignored. 

Cornelia  examined  the  profile  steadily  presented, 
more  carefully  :  "  It's  a  good  deal  more  Egyptian." 

Miss  Maybough  relieved  her  profile  from  dutyj  and 
continued,  "We've  been  everywhere.  Paris  two 
years.  That's  where  I  took  up  art  in  dead  earnest ; 
Julian,  you  know.  Mamma  didn't  want  me  to ;  she 
wanted  me  to  go  into  society  there ;  and  she  does 
here ;  but  I  hate  it.  Don't  you  think  society  is  very 
frivolous,  or,  any  way,  very  stupid  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  it.  I  never  went  out, 
much,"  said  Cornelia. 

"  "Well,  I  hope  you're  not  conventional !  Nobody's 
conventional  here" 


96  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

"I  don't  believe  I'm  conventional  enough  to  hurt," 
said  Cornelia. 

"You  have  humor,  too,"  said  Miss  Maybough, 
thoughtfully,  as  if  she  had  been  mentally  catalogu 
ing  her  characteristics.  "  You'll  be  popular." 

Cornelia  stared  at  her  and  turned  to  her  drawing. 

"But  you're  proud,"  said  the  other,  "I  can  see 
that.  I  adore  pride.  It  must  have  been  your  pride 
that  fascinated  me  at  the  first  glance.  Do  you  mind 
my  being  fascinated  with  you  ?  " 

Cornelia  wanted  to  laugh ;  at  the  same  time  she 
wondered  what  new  kind  of  crazy  person  she  had  got 
with ;  this  was  hardly  one  of  the  art-students  that 
went  wild  from  overwork.  Miss  Maybough  kept  on 
without  waiting  to  be  answered  :  "I  haven't  got  a  bit 
of  pride,  myself.  I  could  just  let  you  walk  over  me. 
How  does  it  feel  to  be  proud  ?  What  are  you  proud 
for  f  " 

Cornelia  quieted  a  first  impulse  to  resent  this  pur 
suit.  "  I  don't  think  I'm  very  proud.  I  used  to  be 
proud  when  I  was  little  ;  —  I  guess  you  ought  to  have 
asked  me  then." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  Tell  me  about  yourself !  "  Miss  May- 
bough  implored  again,  but  she  went  on  as  before 
without  giving  Cornelia  any  chance  to  reply.  "  Of 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  97 

course,  when  I  say  mamma,  I  mean  my  step-mother. 
She's  very  good  to  me,  but  she  doesn't  understand 
me.  You'll  like  her.  I'll  tell  you  what  sort  of  a 
person  she  is."  She  did  so  at  such  length  that  the 
lunch  hour  passed  before  she  finished,  and  a  hush  fell 
upon  all  the  babbling  voices  about,  as  the  monitor 
came  back  to  her  place. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  afternoon  the  monitor's  vig 
ilance  relaxed  again,  and  Miss  Maybough  began  to 
talk  again.  "  If  you  want  to  be  anything  by  the 
Synthesis  standards,"  she  said,  "you've  got  to  keep 
this  up  a  whole  year,  you  know."  It  was  now  four 
o'clock,  and  Cornelia  had  been  working  steadily  since 
eleven,  except  for  the  half-hour  at  lunch-time. 
"They'll  see  how  well  you  draw;  you  needn't  be 
afraid  of  their  not  doing  that ;  and  they'll  let  you  go 
on  to  the  round  at  once,  perhaps.  But  if  you're  truly 
Synthetic  in  spirit,  you  won't  want  to.  You'll  want 
to  get  all  you  can  out  of  the  block ;  and  it'll  take  you 
a  year  to  do  that;  then  another  year  for  the  full 
length,  you  know.  At  first  we  only  had  the  block 
here,  and  a  good  many  people  think  now  that  the 
full-length  Preparatory  encroaches  on  the  Antique. 
Sometimes  they  even  let  you  put  in  backgrounds  here, 

l>ut  it  don't  matter  much  :  when  the  instructor  in  the 
7 


98  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

Antique  gets  hold  of  you  he  makes  you  unlearn  every 
thing  you've  learnt  in  the  full-length.  He's  grand." 

A  girl  who  was  working  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table  said  with  a  careless  air,  "  They  told  me  I  might 
go  up  to  the  Antique  to-day." 

"  Lida ! "  Miss  Maybough  protested,  in  a  voice 
hoarse  with  admiration. 

"Yes;  but  I'm  not  going." 

"  Why  not  ?  I  should  think  you  would  be  so  proud. 
How  did  they  come  to  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  just  said  I  might.  But  I'm  not  going. 
They're  so  severe  in  the  Antique.  They  just  discour 
age  you." 

"Yes,  that  is  so,"  said  Miss  Maybough,  with  a  sigh 
of  solemn  joy.  "  They  make  you  feel  as  if  you  couldn't 
draw  at  all." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other  girl.  "  They  act  as  if  you 
didn't  know  a  thing." 

"  I  wouldn't  go,"  said  Miss  Maybough. 

"  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  I  may."  The  girl  went 
on  drawing,  and  Miss  Maybough  turned  to  Cornelia 
again. 

"  Towards  the  end  of  your  third  year  —  or  perhaps 
you  don't  like  to  have  your  future  all  mapped  out. 
Does  it  scare  you  ?  " 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  99 

"  I  guess  if  it  does  I  shall  live  through  it,"  said  Cor 
nelia  steadily;  her  heart  was  beginning  to  quake 
somewhat,  but  she  was  all  the  more  determined  not  to 
show  it. 

"  Well,  the  third  year  you  may  get  to  painting  still- 
life,  while  you  keep  up  your  drawing  afternoons  here. 
The  next  year  you'll  go  into  the  antique  class,  if 
they'll  let  you,  and  draw  heads,  and  keep  up  your 
Btill-life  mornings.  When  they  think  you're  fit  for  it, 
they'll  let  you  do  an  arm,  maybe,  and  work  along  that 
way  to  the  full  figure ;  and  that  takes  another  whole 
winter.  Then  you  go  into  the  life  class,  one  of  them, 
all  the  morning,  and  keep  drawing  from  the  antique  in 
the  afternoons,  or  else  do  heads  from  the  model.  You 
do  a  head  every  day,  and  then  paint  it  out,  and  begin 
another  the  next  day.  You  learn  to  sacrifice  self  to 
art.  It's  grand!  Well,  then,  the  next  winter  you 
keep  on  just  the  same,  and  as  many  winters  after  that 
as  you  please.  You  know  what  one  instructor  said  to 
a  girl  that  asked  him  what  she  should  do  after  she  had 
been  five  years  in  the  Synthesis  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  answered  Cornelia  anxiously. 

"  Stay  five  years  more  !  " 

Miss  Maybough  did  not  give  this  time  to  sink  very 
deep  into  Cornelia's  spirit.  "  Will  you  let  me  call  you 
by  your  first  name  ?  " 


100  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"•  Why,  I've  hardly  ever  been  called  by  any  other," 
said  Cornelia  simply. 

''  And  will  you  call  me  Charmian  ?  " 

"  I  had  just  as  lief."  Cornelia  laughed  ;  she  could 
not  help  it ;  that  girl  seemed  so  odd ;  she  did  not  know 
whether  she  liked  her  or  not. 

"  What  poise  you  have  got ! "  sighed  Charmian. 
"  May  I  come  to  see  you  ?  Not  a  ceremonious  call. 
In  your  own  room ;  where  we  can  talk." 

Cornelia  thought  that  if  they  went  on  as  they  had 
that  day,  they  should  probably  talk  quite  enough  at 
the  Synthesis ;  but  she  said,  "  Why,  yes,  I  should  like 
to  have  you,  if  you  won't  care  for  my  sitting  on  the 
trunk.  There's  only  one  chair." 

"  Let  me  have  the  trunk !  Promise  me  you'll  let 
me  sit  on  the  trunk.  It's  divine !  Is  it  in  a  Salvation 
Hotel  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Cornelia. 
/  "  Why,  that's  what   they  call   the  places  that  the 
Young  Women's  Christian  Association  keep." 

"  No,  it  isn't.  It's  just  a  boarding-house."  Corne 
lia  wrote  her  address  on  a  piece  of  paper,  and  Char 
mian  received  it  with  solemn  rapture.  She  caught 
Cornelia  in  a  sudden  embrace  and  kissed  her,  before 
Cornelia  could  help  herself.  "  Oh,  I  adore  you  I "  she 
cried. 


THE   COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  101 

They  parted  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  where  they 
found  themselves  among  groups  of  students  arriving 
from  all  parts  of  the  place,  and  pausing  for  Synthesis 
gossip,  which  Cornelia  could  not  have  entered  into  yet 
if  she  had  wished.  She  escaped,  and  walked  home  to 
her  boarding-house  with  rather  a  languid  pace,  and 
climbed  to  her  little  room  on  the  fifth  story,  and  lay 
down  on  her  bed.  It  was  harder  work  than  teaching, 
and  her  back  ached,  and  her  heart  was  heavy  with  the 
thought  of  five  years  in  the  Synthesis,  when  she 
barely  had  money  enough  for  one  winter.  She  was 
not  afraid  of  the  work ;  she  liked  that ;  she  would  be 
glad  to  spend  her  whole  life  at  it ;  but  she  could  not 
give  five  years  to  it,  and  perhaps  ten.  She  was 
ashamed  now  to  think  she  had  once  dreamed  of  some 
how  slipping  through  in  a  year,  and  getting  the  good 
of  it  without  working  for  it.  She  tried  to  plan  how  she 
could  go  home  and  teach  a  year,  and  then  come  back 
and  study  a  year,  and  so  on ;  but  by  the  end  of  the 
twenty  years  that  it  would  take  for  ten  years'  study  at 
this  rate,  she  would  be  an  old  woman  of  forty,  ready 
to  drop  into  the  grave.  She  was  determined  not  to 
give  up,  and  if  she  did  not  give  up,  there  was  no  other 
end  to  it ;  or  so  it  seemed  at  the  close  of  her  first  day 
in  the  Synthesis. 


102  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

She  was  very  homesick,  and  she  would  have  liked 
to  give  up  altogether  and  go  home.  But  she  thought 
of  what  people  would  say ;  of  how  her  mother,  who 
would  be  so  glad  to  see  her,  would  feel.  She  would 
not  be  a  baby,  and  she  turned  her  face  over  in  the  pil 
low  and  sobbed. 


XV. 

CORNELIA  thought  that  perhaps  Mr.  Ludlow  would 
feel  it  due  to  Mrs.  Burton  to  come  and  ask  how  she 
was  getting  on ;  but  if  she  did  not  wish  him  to  come 
she  had  reason  to  be  glad,  for  the  whole  week  passed, 
and  she  did  not  see  him,  or  hear  anything  from  him. 
She  did  not  blame  him,  for  she  had  been  very  un 
couth,  and  no  doubt  he  had  done  his  whole  duty  in 
meeting  her  at  the  depot,  and  seeing  her  safely  housed 
the  first  night.  She  wished  to  appreciate  his  kind 
ness,  and  when  she  found  herself  wondering  a  little  at 
his  not  caring  to  know  anything  more  about  her,  she 
made  much  of  it.  If  it  was  not  all  that  she  could  have 
imagined  from  his  offer  to  be  of  use  to  her  in  any  way 
he  could,  she  reminded  herself  that  he  had  made  that 
offer  a  very  long  time  ago,  and  that  she  never  meant 
to  use  him.  Beside,  she  was  proud  of  having  made 
her  start  alone,  and  she  knew  which  way  she  wished 
to  go,  though  the  way  seemed  so  hard  and  long  at 
times.  She  was  not  sure  that  all  the  students  at  the 
Synthesis  were  so  clear  as  to  their  direction,  but  they 


104  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

all  had  the  same  faith  in  the  Synthesis  and  its  methods. 
They  hardly  ever  talked  to  her  of  anything  else,  and 
first  and  last  they  talked  a  good  deal  to  her.  It  was 
against  the  rules  to  loiter  and  talk  in  the  corridors,  as 
much  against  the  rules  as  smoking ;  but  every  now 
and  then  you  came  upon  a  young  man  with  a  cigarette, 
and  he  was  nearly  always  talking  with  a  group  of 
girls.  At  lunch-time  the  steps  and  window-seats  were 
full,  and  the  passages  were  no  longer  thoroughfares. 
After  the  first  day  Cornelia  came  out  with  the  rest ; 
Charmian  Maybough  said  that  one  could  not  get  into 
the  spirit  of  the  Synthesis  unless  one  did  ;  and  in  fact 
those  who  wished  to  work  and  those  who  would 
rather  have  played,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  met  there  in 
the  same  aesthetic  equality.  She  found  herself  ac 
quainted  with  a  great  many  girls  whose  names  she  did 
not  know,  in  the  fervor  of  the  common  interest,  the 
perpetual  glow  of  enthusiasm  which  crowned  the 
severest  ordeals  of  the  Synthesis  with  the  halo  of 
happy  martyrdom  if  not  the  wreath  of  victory. 

They  talked  about  the  different  instructors,  how 
awful  they  were,  and  how  they  made  you  cry  some 
times,  they  were  so  hard  on  your  work ;  but  if  you 
amounted  to  anything,  you  did  not  mind  it  when 
you  got  to  feel  what  they  meant ;  then  you  wanted 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  105 

them  to  be  harsh.  They  said  of  one,  "  My !  You 
ought  to  see  him !  He  can  spoil  your  drawing  for 
you!  He  just  takes  your  charcoal,  and  puts  thick 
black  lines  all  over  everything.  It  don't  do  to  finish 
much  for  him.'''  They  celebrated  another  for  sitting 
down  in  front  of  your  work,  and  drooping  in  silent 
despair  before  it  for  awhile,  and  then  looking  up  at 
you  in  cold  disgust,  and  asking,  "  What  made  you 
draw  it  that  way  ?  "  as  if  it  were  inconceivable  any 
body  should  have  been  willing  to  do  it  so.  There 
were  other  instructors  who  were  known  to  have  the 
idea  of  getting  at  the  best  in  you  by  a  sympathetic 
interest  in  what  you  had  tried  for,  and  looking  for 
some  good  in  it.  The  girls  dramatized  their  manner 
of  doing  this ;  they  did  not  hold  them  in  greater  re 
gard  than  the  harder  masters,  but  they  did  not  hold 
them  in  less,  and  some  of  them  seemed  to  value  an  in 
structor  as  much  for  the  way  he  squinted  his  eyes  at 
your  drawing  as  for  what  he  said  of  it. 

The  young  men  did  not  talk  so  much  of  the  in 
structors  ;  they  were  more  reticent  about  everything. 
But  some  had  formed  themselves  upon  them,  and  you 
could  tell  which  each  of  these  was  studying  under ;  or 
this  was  what  Charmian  Maybough  said. 

She  led  Cornelia  all  about  through  the  quaint  old 


106  THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA. 

r 

rookery,  with  its  wandering  corridors,  and  its  clusters 
of  rooms  distributed  at  random  in  the  upper  stories  of 
several  buildings  which  the  Synthesis  had  gathered  to 
itself  as  if  by  a  sort  of  affinity,  and  she  lectured  upon 
every  one  and  everything. 

It  was  against  usage  for  students  in  the  lower 
grades  to  visit  the  upper  classes  when  they  were  at 
work ;  but  Charmian  contrived  stolen  glimpses  of  the 
still-life  rooms  and  the  rooms  where  they  were  work 
ing  from  the  draped  models.  For  the  first  time  Cor 
nelia  saw  the  irregular  hemicycle  of  students  silently 
intent  upon  the  silent  forms  and  faces  of  those  strange 
creatures  who  sat  tranced  in  a  lifeless  immobility,  as  if 
the  long  practice  of  their  trade  had  resolved  them  into 
something  as  impersonal  as  the  innumerable  pictures 
studied  from  them.  She  even  penetrated  with  Char 
mian  to  the  women's  life-room,  where  you  really  could 
not  go  while  the  model  was  posing,  and  where  they 
had  to  time  their  visit  at  the  moment  when  the  girls 
had  left  off  for  lunch,  and  were  chattering  over  their 
chocolate.  They  had  set  it  out  on  the  vacant  model- 
stand,  and  they  invited  their  visitors  to  break  bread 
with  them :  the  bread  they  had  brought  to  rub  out 
their  drawings  with.  They  made  Cornelia  feel  as 
much  at  home  with  them  on  the  summit  they  had 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  107 

reached,  as  she  felt  with  the  timidest  beginners  in  the 
Preparatory.  Charmian  had  reported  everywhere 
that  she  had  genius,  and  in  the  absence  of  proofs 
to  the  contrary  the  life-class  accepted  her  as  if  she 
had.  Their  talk  was  not  very  different  from  the  talk 
of  the  students  in  the  lower  grades.  They  spoke  of 
the  Synthesis,  and  asked  her  how  she  liked  it,  but 
they  did  not  wait  for  her  to  say.  They  began  to  des 
cant  upon  their  instructors,  and  the  pictures  their 
instructors  had  last  exhibited  at  the  Academy  or  the 
American  Artists ;  and  the  things  that  the  old  Syn 
thesis  pupils  had  there.  Cornelia  learned  here  that 
even  actual  Synthetics  had  things  in  the  exhibitions, 
and  that  in  the  last  Academy  a  Preparatory  girl  had 
sold  a  picture ;  she  determined  that  before  the  winter 
was  over  she  would  at  least  give  the  Academy  a 
chance  to  refuse  the  picture  of  another  Preparatory 
girl. 

She  got  Charmian  to  point  out  the  girl  who  had 
sold  the  picture ;  she  was  a  little,  quiet-looking  thing ; 
Cornelia  saw  some  of  her  work  in  round  hands  and 
she  did  not  think  it  was  better  than  she  could  do  her 
self.  She  took  courage  and  dreamed  of  trying  not  to 
disappoint  the  hopes  of  immediate  performance,  which 
she  knew  her  mother  would  be  having  in  spite  of  her 


108  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

pretending  the  contrary.  Her  mother  had  written 
that  she  must  not  work  herself  down,  trying  to  learn 
too  fast,  but  must  take  the  whole  winter  for  it.  Cor 
nelia  wondered  what  she  would  think  if  she  knew 
how  little  a  person  could  be  expected  to  do  in  one 
winter,  in  the  regular  Synthesis  way. 

She  was  happier  at  the  end  of  the  first  week  than 
she  had  been  at  the  end  of  the  first  day,  though  she 
was  very  tired,  and  was  glad  to  stop  at  the  earlier 
hour  when  most  of  the  students  left  their  work  on 
Saturday  afternoon.  She  had  begun  to  feel  the  charm 
of  the  Synthesis,  which  every  one  said  she  would  feel. 
She  was  already  a  citizen  of  the  little  republic  where 
the  heaviest  drudgery  was  sweet  with  a  Vague,  high 
faith  and  hope.  It  was  all  a  strange  happiness  to 
her,  and  yet  not  strange.  It  was  like  a  heritage  of 
her  own  that  she  had  come  into ;  something  she  was 
born  to,  a  right,  a  natural  condition. 

She  did  not  formulate  this,  or  anything ;  she  did  not 
ask  herself  why  the  frivolities  and  affectations  which 
disgusted  her  in  the  beginning  no  longer  offended  her 
so  much  ;  she  only  saw  that  some  of  the  most  frivo 
lous  and  affected  of  her  fellow-citizens  were  the  clev 
erest;  and  that  the  worst  of  them  were  better  than 
they  might  have  been  where  the  ideal  was  less  gener- 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  109 

ous.  She  did  not  know  then  or  afterwards  just  why 
some  of  them  were  there,  and  they  did  not  seem  to 
know  themselves.  There  were  some  who  could 
reasonably  expect  to  live  by  their  art ;  there  were 
more  who  could  hope  to  live  by  teaching  it.  But 
there  were  others  who  had  no  definite  aim  or  purpose, 
and  seemed  to  think  their  study  would  shape  them  to 
some  design.  They  were  trying  it,  they  did  not  know 
clearly  why,  or  at  least  were  not  able  to  say  clearly 
why.  There  were  several  rich  girls,  and  they  worked 
from  the  love  of  it,  as  hard  as  the  poorest.  There 
were  some  through  whom  she  realized  what  Ludlow 
meant  when  he  spoke  to  her  mother  of  the  want  that 
often  went  hand  in  hand  with  art ;  there  were  others 
even  more  pitiful,  who  struggled  with  the  bare  suffi 
ciency  of  gift  to  keep  within  the  Synthesis.  But  even 
among  the  girls  who  were  so  poor  that  they  had  to 
stint  themselves  of  food  and  fire,  for  art's  sake,  there 
were  the  bravest  and  gayest  spirits ;  and  some  of 
these  who  could  never  have  learned  to  draw  well  if 
they  had  spent  their  lives  in  the  Synthesis,  and  were 
only  waiting  till  their  instructor  should  find  the  heart 
to  forbid  them  further  endeavor,  were  so  sweet  and 
good  that  Cornelia's  heart  ached  for  them. 

At  first  she  was  overawed  by  all  the  students,  simply 


110  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

because  they  were  all  older  students  at  the  Synthe 
sis  than  she  was.  Then  she  included  them  without 
distinction  in  the  slight  that  she  felt  for  the  chatter 
and  the  airs  of  some.  After  that  she  made  her  excep 
tions  among  them ;  she  began  to  see  how  every  one 
honored  and  admired  the  hard  workers.  She  could 
not  revert  to  her  awe  of  them,  even  of  the  hardest 
workers,  but  she  became  more  tolerant  of  the  idlest 
and  vaguest.  She  compared  herself  with  the  clever 
ones,  and  owned  herself  less  clever,  not  without  bitter 
ness,  but  certainly  with  sincerity,  and  with  a  final  hu 
mility  that  enabled  her  to  tolerate  those  who  were 
least  clever. 


XVI. 

WHEN  she  got  home  from  the  Synthesis  the  first 
Saturday  afternoon,  Cornelia  climbed  up  the  four 
flights  of  stairs  that  led  to  her  little  room,  and  lay 
down  to  rest,  as  she  promised  Mrs.  liurton  she  would 
do  every  day ;  some  days  she  did  not.  She  had  to  lie 
on  her  bed,  which  filled  two-thirds  of  the  room. 
There  was  a  bureau  with  a  glass,  which  she  could  not 
see  the  bottom  of  her  skirt  in  without  jumping  up ; 
and  a  wash-stand  with  a  shut-down  lid,  where  she 
wrote  her  letters  and  drew ;  a  chair  stood  between 
that  and  her  trunk,  which  was  next  the  door,  and  let 
the  door  open  part  way. 

It  seemed  very  cramped  at  first,  but  she  soon  got 
used  to  it,  and  then  she  did  not  think  about  it ;  but 
accepted  it  as  she  did  everything  else  in  the  life  that 
was  all  so  strange  to  her.  She  had  never  been  in  a 
boarding-house  before,  and  she  did  not  know  whether 
it  was  New  York  usage  or  not,  that  her  trunk,  which 
the  expressman  had  managed  to  leave  in  the  lower 
hall,  should  be  left  standing  there  for  twenty-four 


112  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

hours  after  his  escape,  and  that  then  she  should  be 
asked  to  take  some  things  out  of  it  so  that  it  should 
not  be  too  heavy  for  the  serving-maids  to  carry  up  to 
her  room.  There  was  no  man-servant  in  the  place ; 
but  the  landlady  said  that  they  expected  to  have  a 
furnace-man  as  soon  as  it  came  cold  weather. 

The  landlady  was  such  an  indistinct  quality,  that  it 
could  seldom  be  known  whether  she  was  at  home  or 
not,  and  when  she  was  identifiably  present,  whether 
she  had  promised  or  had  not  promised  to  do  this  or 
that.  People  were  always  trying  to  see  her  for  some 
reason  or  no  reason,  and  it  was  said  that  the  best 
time  to  find  her  was  at  table.  This  was  not  so  easy  ; 
the  meals  had  a  certain  range  in  time,  and  the  landlady 
was  nominally  at  the  head  of  the  table  ;  but  those  who 
came  early  to  find  her  made  the  mistake  of  not  having 
come  late,  and  if  you  came  late  you  just  missed  her. 
Yet  she  was  sometimes  actually  to  be  encountered  at 
the  head  of  the  stairs  from  the  kitchen,  or  evanescing 
from  the  parlor ;  and  somehow  the  house  was  operated ; 
the  meals  came  and  went,  and  the  smell  of  their  com 
ing  and  going  filled  the  hall-way  from  the  ground  floor 
to  the  attic.  Some  people  complained  of  the  meals, 
but  Cornelia's  traditions  were  so  simple  that  she 
thought  them  a  constant  succession  of  prodigies,  with 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  113 

never  less  than  steak,  fish  and  hash  for  breakfast,  and 
always  turkey  and  cranberry  sauce  for  dinner,  and 
often  ice-cream ;  sometimes  the  things  were  rather 
burnt,  but  she  did  not  see  that  there  was  much  to  find 
fault  with.  She  celebrated  the  luxury  in  her  letters 
home,  and  she  said  that  she  liked  the  landlady,  too,  and 
that  they  had  got  to  be  great  friends  ;  in  fact  the  land 
lady  reminded  the  girl  of  her  own  mother  in  the  sort  of 
springless  effectiveness  with  which  she  brought  things  to 
pass,  when  you  would  never  have  expected  any  result 
whatever;  and  she  was  gentle  like  her  mother,  and 
simple-hearted,  with  all  her  elusiveness.  But  she  was 
not  neat,  like  Mrs.  Saunders ;  the  house  went  at  loose 
ends.  Cornelia  found  fluff  under  her  bed  that  must 
have  been  there  a  long  time.  The  parlor  and  the  din 
ing-room  were  kept  darkened,  and  no  one  could  have 
told  what  mysteries  their  corners  and  set  pieces  of  fur 
niture  harbored.  The  carpets,  where  the  subdued 
light  struck  them,  betrayed  places  worn  down  to  the 
warp.  Mrs.  Montgomery  herself  had  a  like  effect  of 
unsparing  use ;  her  personal  upholstery  showed  frayed 
edges  and  broken  woofs,  which  did  not  seriously  dis 
cord  with  her  nerveless  gentility. 

The  parlor  was  very  long  and  rather  narrow,  and 
it  was  crossed  at  the  rear  by  the  dining-room  which 


114  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA 

showed  the  table  in  stages  of  preparation  or  dis 
mantling  through  sliding-doors  never  quite  shut. 
At  intervals  along  the  parlor  walls  were  set  sofas  in 
linen  hrocade  and  yellow  jute ;  and  various  easy  and 
uneasy  chairs  in  green  plush  stood  about  in  no  definite 
relation  to  the  black-walnut,  marble-topped  centre- 
table.  A  scarf,  knotted  and  held  by  a  spelter  vase  to 
one  of  the  marble  mantles,  for  there  were  two,  re 
corded  a  moment  of  the  aesthetic  craze  which  had 
ceased  before  it  got  farther  amidst  the  earlier  and 
honester  ugliness  of  the  room.  The  gas-fixtures  were 
of  the  vine-leaf  and  grape-cluster  bronze-age  ;  some  of 
the  garlands  which  ought  to  have  been  attached  to 
the  burners,  hung  loose  from  the  parent  stem,  without 
the  effort  on  the  part  of  any  witness  to  complete  the 
artistic  intention.  In  the  evening,  the  lady-boarders 
received  their  gentlemen-callers  in  the  parlor  ;  their 
lady-callers  were  liable  at  all  times  to  be  asked  if 
they  would  not  like  to  go  to  the  boarders'  rooms,  and 
whether  they  expressed  this  preference  or  not,  they 
were  directed  where  to  find  them  by  the  maid,  who 
then  rapidly  disappeared  down  the  kitchen  stairs. 

In  fact,  the  door-service  at  Mrs.  Montgomery's  was 
something  she  would  probably  have  deprecated  if  any 
one  had  asked  her  to  do  so.  It  was  the  charge  of  a 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  115 

large,  raw-boned  Irish  girl,  who  made  up  by  her 
athletic  physique  and  her  bass  voice  for  the  want  of  a 
man-servant  on  the  premises.  She  brow-beat  visitors 
into  acceptance  of  the  theory  that  the  persons  they 
came  to  see  were  not  at  home,  especially  if  they 
showed  signs  of  intending  to  wait  in  the  parlor  while 
she  went  upstairs  to  find  out.  Those  who  suffered 
from  her  were  of  the  sex  least  fitted  to  combat  her. 
The  gentlemen  boarders  seldom  had  callers ;  when 
they  had,  their  callers  did  not  ask  whether  their 
friends  were  in  or  not ;  they  went  and  saw  for  them 
selves. 

The  gentlemen  at  Mrs.  Montgomery's  were  fewer 
than  the  ladies,  and  they  were  for  several  reasons  in 
greater  favor.  For  one  thing  they  gave  less  trouble : 
they  had  a  less  lively  fear  of  mice,  and  they  were  not 
so  apt  to  be  out  of  health  and  to  want  their  meals  sent 
up ;  they  ate  more,  but  they  did  not  waste  so  much, 
and  they  never  did  any  sort  of  washing  in  their  rooms. 
Cornelia  did  not  know  who  or  what  some  of  them 
were  ;  but  she  made  sure  of  a  theatrical  manager ;  two 
or  three  gentlemen  in  different  branches  of  commerce ; 
a  newspaper  writer  of  some  sort,  and  an  oldish  gentle 
man  who  had  been  with  Mrs.  Montgomery  a  great 
while,  and  did  not  seem  to  be  anything  but  a  gentleman 


116  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

boarder,  pure  and  simple.  They  were  all  very  civil 
and  quiet,  and  they  bore  with  the  amiable  American 
fortitude  the  hardships  of  the  common  lot  at  Mrs. 
Montgomery's,  which  Cornelia  underwent  ignorantly 
as  necessary  incidents  of  life  in  New  York. 

She  now  fell  asleep  where  she  lay,  and  she  was 
startled  from  her  nap,  but  hardly  surprised,  to  hear  her 
name  spoken  in  the  hall  far  below,  as  if  it  were  a 
theme  of  contention  between  the  bass-voiced  Irish  girl 
and  some  one  at  the  street  door,  who  supported  the 
other  side  of  the  question  in  low,  indistinct,  lady-like 
murmurs. 

"  No,  she  don't  be  in,"  said  the  Irish  girl  bluntly. 
The  polite  murmur  insisted,  and  the  Irish  girl  said, 
with  finality,  "  Well,  then,  yous  can  go  up  yourselves 
and  see ;  the  room  is  right  over  the  dure,  four  flights 
up." 

Cornelia  jumped  up  and  tried  to  pull  her  hair  into 
a  knot  before  the  glass.  There  came  a  tap  at  her 
door  and  the  voice  of  Charmian  Maybough  asked, 
"  May  I  come  in,  Miss  Saunders,  —  Cornelia  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Cornelia,  and  she  opened  the  door  as 
far  as  her  trunk  would  let  her. 

Charmian  pushed  impetuously  in.  She  took  Cor 
nelia  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her,  as  if  they  had  not 
met  for  a  long  time. 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  117 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  whirling  about,  so  as  to  sweep  the 
whole  room  with  her  glance,  before  sinking  down  on 
Cornelia's  trunk,  "  why  can't  /  have  something  like 
this  ?  Well,  I  shall  have,  I  hope,  before  I  die,  yet. 
What  made  her  say  you  weren't  in  ?  I  knew  you 
were."  She  rose  and  flew  about  the  room,  and  ex 
amined  it  in  detail.  She  was  very  beautifully  dressed, 
in  a  street  costume  of  immediate  fashion,  without  a 
suggestion  of  the  aestheticism  of  the  picturesque  gown 
she  wore  at  the  Synthesis ;  that  had  originality,  but 
Cornelia  perceived  with  the  eye  trained  to  see  such 
differences,  that  this  had  authority.  Charmian  could 
not  help  holding  and  carrying  herself  differently  in  it, 
too.  She  was  exquisitely  gloved,  and  Cornelia  in 
stinctively  felt  that  her  hat  was  from  Paris,  though 
till  then  she  had  never  seen  a  Paris  hat  to  know  it. 
She  might  have  been  a  little  overawed  by  it,  if  the 
wearer  had  not  abruptly  asked  her  what  she  thought 
of  it. 

"  Well,"  said  Cornelia,  with  her  country  directness, 
which  was  so  different  from  the  other's  abruptness,  "  I 
think  it's  about  the  most  perfect  thing  I  ever  saw." 

Charmian  sighed.  "  I  saw  you  looking  at  it.  Yes, 
it  is  a  dream.  But  it's  a  badge  of  slavery.  So's  the 
whole  costume.  Look  how  I'm  laced ! "  She  flung 


118  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

open  the  jacket  and  revealed  a  waist  certainly  much 
smaller  than  she  had  earlier  in  the  day.  "  That's  the 
way  it  goes  through  my  whole  life.  Mamma  is  dead 
set  against  the  artistic,  and  I'm  dead  set  against  the 
fashionable.  As  long  as  I'm  at  the  Synthesis,  I  do  as 
the  Synthetics  do.  I  dress  like  the  Synthesis,  and  I 
think  like  it,  and  I  act  like  it.  As  soon  as  I  get  home 
in  the  afternoon,  I  have  to  be  of  the  world  worldly. 
I  put  on  a  Worth  frock,  and  mamma  would  make  me 
put  on  a  Worth  spirit,  if  she  could.  I  do  my  best  to 
conform,  because  it's  the  bargain,  and  I'll  keep  my 
word  if  it  kills  me.  Now  you  see  what  a  double  life  I 
lead  !  If  I  could  only  be  steeped  in  hopeless  poverty 
to  the  lips  !  If  I  could  have  a  room  like  this,  even  ! 
Sometimes  I'm  so  bewildered  by  the  twofold  existence 
I'm  leading,  I  don't  really  know  what  I'm  saying. 
Those  your  things,  of  course?"  She  sprang  from 
Cornelia's  trunk,  which  she  had  sank  down  upon 
again,  and  swiftly  traversed  the  sketches  Cornelia  had 
pinned  about  the  wall.  "What  touch!  Yes,  you 
merely  have  to  live  on,  to  be  anything  you  like.  It'll 
do  itself  for  you.  Well,  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  see 
her."  She  turned  about  to  Cornelia  with  an  air  of 
deprecation.  "  Mamma,  you  know.  She's  down  stairs 
waiting  for  us.  She  thinks  it  right  to  come  with  me 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA,  119 

always.  1  dare  say  it  is.  She  isn't  so  very  bad,  you 
know.  Only  she  insists  upon  knowing  all  the  girls  I 
take  a  fancy  to,  herself.  You  needn't  be  afraid  of 
her." 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  be  afraid  of  anybody," 
said  Cornelia. 

The  darker  corner  of  the  long  parlor  was  occupied 
by  a,  young  couple  in  the  earnest  inquiry  into  each 
other's  psychological  peculiarities  which  marks  a  stage 
of  the  passion  of  love.  It  obliged  them  to  get  very 
close  together,  where  they  sat,  she  on  a  lounge  and  he 
in  the  chair,  which  he  kept  pulling  nearer  and  nearer ; 
they  fulfilled  these  conditions  and  exchanged  their 
observations  with  a  freedom  that  ignored  the  presence 
of  the  lady  sitting  somewhat  severely  upright  between 
the  two  long,  front  windows,  exactly  midway  of  the 
dingy  lace  curtains,  trained  fan-wise  on  the  carpet. 
They  were  not  disturbed  when  Cornelia  and  Charmian 
appeared ;  the  young  lady  continued  to  dangle  the 
tassel  of  a  cushion  through  her  fingers,  and  the  young 
man  leaned  toward  her  with  his  face  in  his  hand,  and 
his  elbow  sunk  in  the  arm  of  the  lounge ;  but  the 
other  lady  rose  at  once  and  came  quickly  forward,  as 
if  escaping  from  them.  Beside  the  tall  girls  she 
looked  rather  little,  and  she  was  decidedly  blonde 


120  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

against  their   brunette    color.     She  wore  a  veil  that 

o 

came  just  between  her  upper  and  her  lower  lip,  and 
that  stirred  lightly  when  she  spoke.  She  was  dressed 
with  the  same  authoritative  fashion  as  Charmian,  but 
not  so  simply. 

She  did  not  wait  for  her  daughter  to  speak,  but  took 
Cornelia's  hand,  and  said  in  a  soft  voice,  "  Miss  Saun- 
ders  ?  I  am  very  glad  we  found  you  at  home.  My 
daughter  has  been  speaking  to  me  about  you,  and  we 
hoped  to  have  come  sooner,  but  we  couldn't  manage 
together  before." 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  asked  Cornelia. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  Mrs.  Maybough  returned,  with 
a  velvety  tenderness  of  tone  that  seemed  to  convey 
assent.  "  We  shall  be  rather  late,  as  it  is.  I  hope 
you're  comfortably  situated  here." 

"  Oh,  very,"  said  Cornelia.  "  I've  never  been 
away  from  home  before,  and  of  course  it  isn't  like 
home." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Maybough,  "one  misses  the  re 
finements  of  home  in  such  places."     She  turned  and 
swept   the   appointments  of   the  room,  including  the  \ 
students  of  psychology,  with  a  critical  eye. 

"  I  wish  /could  come  here,"  sighed  the  daughter. 
"  If  I  could  have  a  room  like  Cornelia's,  mamma !  I 
wish  you  could  see  it." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  121 

"  I'm  glad  you're  pleasantly  placed,  Miss  Saunders. 
I  hope  you're  not  working  too  hard  at  the  Synthesis. 
I  understand  the  young  ladies  there  are  so  enthusi 
astic." 

"  Oh,  no,"  Cornelia  protested. 

"  Of  course  she  is  !  "  said  Charmian.  "  Everybody 
works  too  hard  at  the  Synthesis.  It's  the  ideal  of  the 
place.  We  woke  her  out  of  a  nap,  and  I  know  she 
was  tired  to  death." 

Cornelia  could  not  deny  it,  and  so  she  said  nothing. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mrs.  Maybough,  non-committally ; 
"that  won't  do."  She  paused,  without  intermitting 
the  scrutiny  which  Cornelia  felt  she  had  been  subject 
ing  her  to  from  the  first  moment  through  her  veil. 
"  You  mustn't  wear  yourself  out."  She  paused  again, 
and  then  while  Charmian  turned  away  with  an  effect 
of  impatience,  she  asked,  "  Do  you  ever  go  out  on 
Sundays  ?  " 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  Cornelia  began,  not  certain 
whether  Mrs.  Maybough  meant  walking  out  or  driv 
ing  out ;  young  people  did  both  in  Pymantoning. 

Mrs.  Maybough  pursued :  "  We  receive  on  Thurs 
days,  but  we  have  a  few  friends  coming  in  to-morrow 
afternoon,  and  we  should  be  very  glad  to  see  you,  if 
you  have  nothing  better." 


122  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

The  invitation  was  so  tentatively,  so  gingerly 
'  offered  in  manner,  if  not  in  words,  that  Cornelia  was 
not  quite  sure  it  had  been  given.  She  involuntarily 
searched  her  memory  for  something  better  before  she 
spoke ;  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  was  about  to 
invent  a  previous  engagement,  when  Charmian  sud 
denly  turned  and  laid  her  arms  about  her  neck. 

"  You'll  come,  of  course !  " 

"  Charmian !  "  said  Mrs.  Maybough.  It  would  have 
been  hard  to  tell  whether  she  was  reproving  the 
action  or  the  urgence.  "  Then  we  shall  hope  to  see 

you?" 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  said  Cornelia. 

"  Do  come  !  "  said  Charmian,  as  if  she  had  not  yet 
accepted.  "  I  can't  let  it  be  a  whole  day  and  two 
nights  before  I  see  you  again !  "  She  put  her  arm 
round  Cornelia's  waist,  as  the  girl  went  with  them  to 
the  outer  door,  to  open  it  for  them,  in  her  village 
fashion.  In  the  hall,  Charmian  whispered  passion 
ately,  "  Don't  you  envy  them  ?  Oh,  if  I  could  live  in 
such  a  house  with  you,  and  with  people  like  that  just 
to  look  at !  " 

"  My  dear !  "  said  Mrs.  Maybough. 

"  They  seem  to  be  engaged,"  said  Cornelia  placidly, 
without  sense  of  anything  wrong  in  the  appearance  of 
the  fact. 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  123 

"  Evidently,"  said  Mrs.  Maybough. 

"  I  shouldn't  care  for  the  engagement,"  said  Char- 
mian.  "  That  would  be  rather  horrid.  But  if  you 
were  in  love,  to  feel  that  you  needn't  hide  it  or 
pretend  not  to  be  !  That  is  life !  I'm  coming  here, 
mamma !  " 


XVII. 

MRS.  MATBOUGH  had  an  apartment  in  the  Mandan 
Flats,  and  her  windows  looked  out  over  miles  of  the 
tinted  foliage  of  the  Park,  and  down  across  the  avenue 
into  one  of  the  pretty  pools  which  light  up  its  wood 
land  reaches.  The  position  was  superb,  and  the 
Mandan  was  in  some  sort  worthy  of  it.  The  architect 
had  done  his  best  to  give  unity  and  character  to  its 
tremendous  mass,  and  he  had  failed  in  much  less 
measure  than  the  architects  of  such  buildings  usually 
do.  Cornelia  dismounted  into  the  dirty  street  in 
front  of  it  from  a  shabby  horse-car,  and  penetrated  its 
dimmed  splendors  of  mosaic  pavement  and  polished 
granite  pillars  and  frescoed  vaults,  with  a  heart  flut 
tered  by  a  hall-boy  all  over  buttons,  and  a  janitor  in 
blue  and  silver  livery,  and  an  elevator-man  in  like 
keeping  with  American  ideals.  She  was  disgusted 
with  herself  that  she  should  be  so  scared,  and  she  was 
ashamed  of  the  relief  she  felt  when  a  servant  in  plain 
clothes  opened  Mrs.  Maybough's  door  to  her ;  she 
knew  he  must  be  a  servant  because  he  had  on  a  dress- 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  125 

coat  and  a  white  tie,  and  she  had  heard  the  Burtons 
joke  about  how  they  were  always  taking  the  waiters 
for  clergymen  at  first  in  Europe.  He  answered  her 
with  subdued  respectfulness  when  she  asked  for  the 
ladies,  and  then  he  went  forward  and  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  heard  her  name  called  into  a 
drawing-room,  as  she  had  read  it  was  done  in  England, 
but  never  could  imagine  it.  The  man  held  aside  the 
portiere  for  her  to  pass,  but  before  she  could  pass 
there  came  a  kind  of  joyous  whoop  from  within,  a 
swishing  of  skirts  toward  her,  and  she  was  caught  in 
the  arms  of  Charmian,  who  kissed  her  again  and 
again,  and  cried  out  over  her  goodness  in  coming. 

"Why,  didn't  you  expect  me?"  Cornelia  asked 
bluntly. 

"  Yes,  but  I  was  just  pretending  you  wouldn't 
come,  or  something  had  happened  to  keep  you,  so  that 
I  could  have  the  good  of  the  revulsion  when  you  did 
come,  and  feel  that  it  was  worth  all  I  had  suffered. 
Don't  you  like  to  do  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  I  ever  did  it,"  said  Cornelia. 

"That's  what  makes  you  so  glorious,"  Charmian 
exulted.  "  You  don't  need  to  do  such  things.  You're 
equal  to  life  as  it  comes.  But  I  have  to  prepare  my 
self  for  it  every  way  I  can.  Don't  you  see  ?  *'' 


126  THE   COAST   OP   BOHEMIA. 

She  led  her,  all  embraced,  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  she  released  her  to  the  smooth  welcome  of  Mrs. 
Maybough.  There  was  no  one  else  in  the  vast,  high 
room  which  was  lit  with  long  windows  and  darkened 
again  with  long,  thick  curtains,  but  was  still  light 
enough  to  let  Cornelia  see  the  elaborate  richness  of 
Mrs.  Maybough's  dress  and  the  simple  richness  of 
Charmian's.  She  herself  wore  her  street-dress  and 
she  did  not  know  whether  she  ought  to  keep  her  hat 
on  or  not ;  but  Charmian  said  she  must  pour  tea  with 
her,  and  she  danced  Cornelia  down  the  splendid 
length  of  the  three  great  salons  opening  into  each 
other  along  the  front  of  the  apartment,  toward  her 
own  room  where  she  said  she  must  leave  it.  The 
drawing-room  was  a  harmony  of  pictures  so  rich  and 
soft,  and  rugs  so  rich  and  soft,  that  the  colors  seemed 
to  play  from  wall  to  floor  and  back  again  in  the  same 
mellow  note;  the  dimness  of  the  dining-room  was 
starred  with  the  glimmer  of  silver  and  cut-glass  and 
the  fainter  reflected  light  of  polished  mahogany ;  the 
a  library  was  a  luxury  of  low  leather  chairs  and  lounges, 
lurking  window-seats,  curtained  in  warm  colors,  and 
shelves  full  of  even  ranks  of  books  in  French  bind 
ings  of  blue  and  green  leather.  There  was  a  great 
carved  library  table  in  front  of  the  hearth  where  a  soffc- 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  127 

coal  fire  flickered  with  a  point  or  two  of  flame ;  on 
the  mantel  a  French  clock  of  classic  architecture 
caught  the  eye  with  the  gleam  of  its  pendulum  as  it 
vibrated  inaudibly.  It  was  all  extremely  well  done, 
infinitely  better  done  than  Cornelia  could  have 
known.  It  was  tasteful  and  refined,  with  the  taste 
and  refinement  of  the  decorator  who  had  wished  to 
produce  the  effect  of  long  establishment  and  well- 
bred  permanency  ;  the  Mandan  Flats  were  really  not 
two  years  old,  and  Mrs.  Maybough  had  taken  her 
apartment  in  the  spring  and  had  been  in  it  only  a  few 
weeks. 

"  Now  all  this  is  mamma"  Charmian  said,  suffering 
Cornelia  to  pause  for  a  backward  glance  at  the  rooms 
as  she  pushed  open  a  door  at  the  side  of  the  library. 
"  I  simply  endure  it  because  it's  in  the  bargain.  But 
it's  no  more  me  than  my  gown  is.  This  is  where  I 
stay,  when  I'm  with  mamma,  but  I'm  going  to  show 
you  where  I  live,  where  I  dream."  She  glided  down 
the  electric-lighted  corridor  where  they  found  them 
selves,  and  apologized  over  her  shoulder  to  Cornelia 
behind  her :  "  Of  course,  you  can't  have  an  attic  in  a 
flat ;  and  anything  like  rain  on  the  roof  is  practically 
impossible ;  but  I've  come  as  near  to  it  as  I  could. 
Be  careful !  Here  are  the  stairs."  She  mounted 


128  THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA. 

eight  or  ten  steps  that  crooked  upward,  and  flung 
wide  a  door  at  the  top  of  the  landing.  It  gave  into  a 
large  room  fronting  northward  and  lighted  with  one 
wide  window ;  the  ceiling  sloped  and  narrowed  down 
to  this  from  the  quadrangular  vault,  and  the  cool  gray 
walls  rose  not  much  above  Cornelia's  head  where  they 
met  the  roof.  They  were  all  stuck  about  with 
sketches  in  oil  and  charcoal.  An  easel  with  a  canvas 
on  it  stood  convenient  to  the  light ;  a  flesh-tinted  lay- 
figure  in  tumbled  drapery  drooped  limply  in  a  corner ; 
a  table  littered  with  palettes  and  brushes  and  battered 
tubes  of  color  was  carelessly  pushed  against  the  win 
dow  ;  there  were  some  lustrous  rugs  hung  up  beside 
the  door ;  the  floor  was  bare  except  for  a  great  tiger- 
skin,  with  the  head  on,  that  sprawled  in  front  of  the 
fire-place.  This  was  very  simple,  with  rough  iron 
fire-dogs ;  the  low  mantel  was  scattered  with  cigarettes, 
cigars  in  Chinese  bronze  vases  at  either  end,  and 
midway  a  medley  of  pipes,  long-stemmed  in  clay  and 
stubbed  in  briar-wood. 

"  Good  gracious ! "  said  Cornelia.  "  Do  you 
smoke  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  Charmian  answered  gravely,  "  but  I'm 
going  to  learn  :  Bernhardt  does.  These  are  just  some 
pipes  that  I  got  the  men  at  the  Synthesis  to  give  me ; 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  129 

pipes  are  so  full  of  character.  And  isn't  this  gome- 
thing  like  ?  "  She  invited  Cornelia  to  a  study  of  the 
place  by  turning  about  and  looking  at  it  herself.  "  It 
seemed  as  if  it  never  would  come  together,  at  one 
time.  Everything  was  in  it,  just  as  it  should  be  ;  and 
then  I  found  it  was  the  ridiculous  ceiling  that  was  the 
trouble.  It  came  to  me  like  a  flash,  what  to  do,  and 
I  got  this  canvas  painted  the  color  of  the  walls,  and 
sloped  so  as  to  cut  off  half  the  height  of  the  room ; 
and  now  it's  a  perfect  symphony.  You  wouldn't  have 
thought  it  wasn't  a  real  ceiling  ?  " 

"  No,  I  shouldn't,"  said  Cornelia,  as  much  surprised 
as  Charmian  could  have  wished. 

"  You  can  imagine  what  a  relief  it  is  to  steal  away 
here  from  all  that  unreality  of  mamma's,  down  there, 
and  give  yourself  up  to  the  truth  of  art ;  I  just  draw  a 
long  breath  when  I  get  in  here,  and  leave  the  world 
behind  me.  Why,  when  I  get  off  here  alone,  for  a 
minute,  I  unlace  !  " 

Cornelia  went  about  looking  at  the  sketches  on  the 
walls ;  they  were  all  that  mixture  of  bad  drawing  and 
fantastic  thinking  which  she  was  used  to  in  the  things 
Charmian  scribbled  over  her  paper  at  the  Synthesis,. 
She  glanced  toward  the  easel,  but  Charmian  said, 
"  Don't  look  at  it !  There's  nothing  there  ;  I  haven't 


130  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

decided  what  I  shall  do  yet.  I  did  think  I  should 
paint  this  tiger  skin,  but  I  don't  feel  easy  painting  the 
skin  of  a  tiger  I  haven't  killed  myself.  If  I  could  get 
mamma  to  take  me  out  to  India  and  let  me  shoot  one ! 
But  don't  you  think  the  whole  place  is  perfect  ?  I've 
tried  to  make  it  just  what  a  studio  ought  to  be,  and 
yet  keep  it  free  from  pose,  don't  you  know  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Cornelia.  "  I've  never  seen  a  studio, 
before." 

"  You  poor  thing,  you  don't  mean  it !  "  cried  Char- 
mian  in  deep  pity.  Cornelia  said  nothing,  and  Char- 
mian  went  on  with  an  air  of  candor,  "  Well,  I  haven't 
seen  a  great  many  myself  —  only  two  or  three  —  but 
I  know  how  they  are,  and  it's  easy  enough  to  realize 
one.  What  I  want  is  to  have  the  atmosphere  of  art 
about  me,  all  the  time.  I'm  like  a  fish  out  of  water 
when  I'm  out  of  the  atmosphere  of  art.  I  intend  to 
spend  my  whole  time  here  when  I'm  not  at  the  Syn 
thesis." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  a  good  place  to  work," 
Cornelia  conceded. 

"Yes,  and  I  am  going  to  work  here,"  said  Char- 
mian.  "  The  great  trouble  with  me  is  that  I  have  so 
many  things  in  my  mind  I  don't  know  which  to  begin 
on  first.  That's  why  the  Synthesis  is  so  good  for  me ; 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  131 

it  concentrates  me,  if  it  is  on  a  block  hand.  You're 
concentrated  by  nature,  and  so  you  can't  feel  what  a 
glorious  pang  it  is  to  be  fixed  to  one  spot  like  a  butter 
fly  with  a  pin  through  you.  I  don't  see  how  I  ever 
lived  without  the  Synthesis.  I'm  going  to  have  a 
wolf-hound  —  as  soon  as  I  can  get  a  good-tempered 
one  that  the  man  can  lead  out  in  the  Park  for  exer 
cise  —  to  curl  up  here  in  front  of  the  fire ;  and  I'm 
going  to  have  foils  and  masks  over  the  chimney.  As 
soon  as  I'm  a  member  of  the  Synthesis  I'm  going  to 
get  them  to  let  me  be  one  of  the  monitors:  that'll 
concentrate  me,  if  anything  will,  keeping  the  rest  in 
order,  and  I  can  get  a  lot  of  ideas  from  posing  the 
model ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  But  you've  got  all  the 
ideas  you  want,  already.  Aren't  you  going  to  join  the 
sketch  class  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  but  I  am,"  said  Cornelia.  "I 
haven't  got  quite  turned  round  yet." 

"  Well,  you  must  do  it.  "  I'm  going  to  have  the 
class  here,  some  day,  as  soon  as  I  get  the  place  in 
perfect  order.  I  must  have  a  suit  of  Japanese  armor 
for  that  corner,  over  there ;  and  then  two  or  three  of 
those  queer-looking,  old,  long,  faded  trunks,  you  know, 
with  eastern  stuffs  gaping  out  of  them,  to  set  along 
the  wall.  I  should  be  ashamed  to  have  anybody  see 


132  THE   COAST   OF   BOHEMIA. 

it  now ;  but  you  have  an  eye,  you  can  supply  every 
thing  with  a  glance.  I'm  going  to  have  a  bed  made  up 
in  the  alcove,  over  there,  and  sleep  here,  sometimes : 
just  that  broad  lounge,  you  know,  with  some  rugs  on 
it — I've  got  the  cushions,  you  see,  already — and  mice 
running  over  yon,  for  the  crumbs  you've  left  when 
you've  got  hungry  sitting  up  late.  Are  you  afraid  of 
mice?" 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  care  to  have  them  run  over  me, 
much,"  said  Cornelia. 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  either,"  said  Charmian,  "  but  if 
you  sleep  in  your  studio,  sometime  you  have  to.  They 
all  do.  Just  put  your  hat  in  here,"  and  she  glided 
before  Cornelia  through  the  studio  door  into  one  that 
opened  beside  it.  The  room  was  a  dim  and  silent  bed 
chamber,  appointed  with  the  faultless  luxury  that 
characterized  the  rest  of  the  apartment.  Cornelia 
had  never  dreamt  of  anything  like  it,  but  '*  Don't  look 
at  it !  "  Charmian  pleaded.  "  I  hate  it,  and  I'm  going 
to  get  into  the  studio  to  sleep  as  soon  as  I've  thought 
out  the  kind  of  hangings.  Well,  we  shall  have  to 
hurry  back  now,"  but  she  kept  Cornelia  while  she 
critically  rearranged  a  ribbon  on  her,  and  studied  the 
effect  of  it  over  her  shoulder  in  the  glass.  "  Yes,"  she 
said,  with  a  deep  sigh  of  satisfaction,  "perfectlj 


THE   COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  133 

Roman!  Gladys  wouldn't  have  done  for  you.  Cor 
nelia  was  a  step  in  the  right  direction ;  but  it  ought  to 
have  been  Fulvia. 

" '  I  should  have  clung  to  Fulvia's  waist  and  thrust 
The  dagger  through  her  side,' " 

she  chanted  tragically  ;  and  she  flung  her  arms  about 
Cornelia  for  illustration.  "  Dream  of  Fair  Women, 
you  know.  What  part  are  you  going  to  play,  to 
day  ?  " 

"  What  part  ?  "  Cornelia  demanded,  freeing  herself, 
with  her  darkest  frown  of  perplexity.  "  You're  not 
going  to  have  theatricals,  I  hope."  She  thought  it 
was  going  pretty  far  to  receive  company  Sunday  after 
noon,  and  if  there  was  to  be  anything  more  she  was 
ready  to  take  her  stand  now. 

Chairman  gave  a  shout  of  laughter.  "  I  wish  we 
were.  Then  I  could  be  natural.  But  I  mean,  what 
are  you  going  to  be :  very  gentle  and  mild  and  sweet 
and  shrinking  ;  or  very  philosophical  and  thoughtful ; 
or  very  stately  and  cold  and  remote  ?  You  know  you 
have  to  be  something.  Don't  you  always  plan  out  the 
character  you  want  them  to  think  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Cornelia,  driven  to  her  bluntest  by  the 
discomfort  she  felt  at  such  a  question,  and  the  doubt  it 
cast  her  into. 


134  THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA. 

Channion  looked  at  her  gloomily.  "You  strange 
creature!"  she  murmured.  "But  I  love  you,"  she 
added  aloud.  "  I  simply  idolize  you ! " 

Cornelia  said,  half -laughing,  "  Don't  be  ridiculous," 
and  pulled  herself  out  of  the  embrace  which  her  de 
votee  had  thrown  about  her.  But  she  could  not  help 
liking  Charmian  for  seeming  to  like  her  so  much. 


,  xvm. 

THEY  still  had  some  time  with  Mrs.  Maybongh, 
when  they  went  back  to  her  before  any  one  else  came ; 
Cornelia  could  see  that  her  features  were  rather 
small  and  regular,  and  that  her  hair  was  that  sort  of 
elderly  blond  in  color  which  makes  people  look 
younger  than  they  are  after  they  have  passed  a  certain 
age.  She  was  really  well  on  in  the  thirties  when  she 
went  out  to  Leadvflle  to  take  charge  of  Charmian 
Maybough's  education  from  the  New  England  town 
where  she  had  always  lived,  and  ended  by  marrying 
Charmian's  father.  At  that  time  Andrew  Maybongh 
had  already  made  and  lost  several  fortunes  without 
great  depravation  from  the  immoralities  of  the  process ; 
he  remained,  as  he  had  always  been,  a  large,  loosely 
good-natured,  casual  kind  of  creature,  of  whom  it  was 
a  question  whether  he  would  not  be  buried  by  public 
subscription,  in  the  end ;  but  he  died  so  opportunely 
that  he  left  the  widow  of  his  second  marriage  with  the 
income  from  a  million  dollars,  which  she  was  to  share 
during  her  lifetime  with  the  child  of  his  first.  Mrs. 


136  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

Maybough  went  abroad  with  her  step-daughter,  and 
most  of  the  girl's  life  had  been  spent  in  Europe. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  Dresden  in  their  sojourn, 
something  of  Florence,  necessarily  a  little  of  Paris  ;  it 
was  not  altogether  wanting  in  London,  where  Mrs. 
Maybough  was  presented  at  court.  But  so  far  as  de 
finitively  materialized  society  was  concerned,  Europe 
could  not  be  said  to  have  availed.  When  she  came 
back  to  her  own  country,  it  was  without  more  than 
the  hope  that  some  society  people,  whom  she  had  met 
abroad,  might  remember  her. 

"  You'll  see  the  greatest  lot  of  frumps,  if  they  ever 
do  come,"  Charmian  said  to  Cornelia,  after  her  step 
mother  had  made  her  excuses  to  Cornelia  for  her 
friends  being  rather  late,  "  and  I  don't  think  they're 
half  as  uncertain  to  come  as  mamma  does.  Anyway, 
they're  certain  to  stay,  after  they  get  here,  till  you 
want  to  rise  up  and  howl." 

"  My  dear  !  "  said  Mrs.  Maybough. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  suppose  I  ever  shall  howl.  I'm  too 
thoroughly  subdued ;  and  with  Cornelia  here  to-day  I 
shall  be  able  to  hold  in.  You're  the  first  Synthesis 
girl,"  she  frankly  explained  to  Cornelia,  "  that  mam 
ma's  ever  let  me  have.  She  thinks  they  spend  all 
their  time  drawing  the  nude." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  137 

Mrs.  Maybough  looked  at  Cornelia  for  the  effect  of 
this  boldness  upon  her,  and  the  girl  frowned  to  keep 
herself  from  laughing,  and  then  gave  way.  Mrs. 
Maybough  smiled  with  a  ladylike  decorum  which 
redeemed  the  excess  from  impropriety.  Charmian 
seemed  to  know  the  bounds  of  her  license,  and  as  if 
Mrs.  Maybough's  smile  had  marked  them,  she  went 
no  farther,  and  her  mother  began  softly  to  question 
Cornelia  about  herself.  The  girl  perceived  that 
Charmian  had  not  told  her  anything  quite  right  con 
cerning  her,  but  had  got  everything  dramatically  and 
picturesquely  awry.  She  tried  to  keep  Cornelia  from 
setting  the  facts  straight,  because  it  took  all  the 
romance  out  of  them,  and  she  said  she  should  always 
believe  them  as  she  had  reported  them.  Cornelia 
knew  from  novels  that  they  were  very  humble  facts, 
but  she  was  prepared  to  abide  by  them  whatever  a 
great  society  woman  like  Mrs.  Maybough  should  think 
of  them  Mrs.  Maybough  seemed  to  think  none  the 
worse  of  them  in  the  simple  angularity  which  Corne 
lia  gave  them. 

Her  friends  began  to  come  in  at  last,  and  Cornelia 
found  herself,  for  the  first  time,  in  a  company  of  those 
modern  nomads  whom  prosperity  and  the  various 
forms  of  indigestion  have  multiplied  among  us.  They 


138  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

were  mostly  people  whom  Mrs.  Maybough  had  met  iii 
Europe,  drinking  different  waters  and  sampling  divers 
climates,  and  they  had  lately  arrived  home,  or  were 
just  going  abroad,  or  to  Florida,  or  Colorado,  or  Cali 
fornia.  The  men  were  not  so  sick  as  the  women,  but 
they  were  prosperous,  and  that  was  as  good  or  as  bad 
a  reason  for  their  homelessness.  They  gradually  with 
drew  from  the  ladies,  and  stirred  their  tea  in  groups  of 
their  own  sex,  and  talked  investments  ;  sometimes  they 
spoke  of  their  diseases,  or  their  hotels  and  steamers ; 
and  they  took  advice  of  each  other  about  places  to  go 
to  if  they  went  in  this  direction  or  that,  but  said  that, 
when  it  came  to  it  they  supposed  they  should  go  where 
their  wives  decided.  The  ladies  spoke  of  where  they 
had  met  last,  and  of  some  who  had  died  since,  or  had 
got  their  daughters  married ;  they  professed  a  generous 
envy  of  Mrs.  Maybough  for  being  so  nicely  settled, 
and  said  that  now  they  supposed  she  would  always 
live  in  New  York,  unless,  one  of  them  archly  sug 
gested,  her  daughter  should  be  carried  off  somewhere ; 
if  one  had  such  a  lovely  daughter  it  was  what  one 
might  expect  to  happen,  any  day. 


XIX. 

THE  part  that  Charmian  had  chosen  to  represent 
must  have  been  that  of  an  Egyptian  slave.  She 
served  her  mother's  guests  with  the  tea  that  Cornelia 
poured,  in  attitudes  of  the  eldest  sculptures  and  mural 
paintings,  and  received  their  thanks  and  compliments 
with  the  passive  impersonality  of  one  whose  hope  in 
life  had  been  taken  away  some  time  in  the  reign  of 
Thotmes  II.  She  did  not  at  once  relent  from  her  self- 
sacrificial  conception  of  herself,  even  under  the  flat 
teries  of  the  nice  little  fellow  who  had  decorated  the 
apartment  for  Mrs.  Maybough,  and  had  come  to  drink 
a  cup  of  tea  in  the  environment  of  his  own  taste. 
Perhaps  this  was  because  he  had  been  one  of  the  first 
to  note  the  peculiar  type  of  Charmian's  style  and 
beauty,  and  she  wished  to  keep  him  in  mind  of  it.  He 
did  duty  as  youth  and  gayety  beside  the  young  ladies 
at  their  tea-urn,  and  when  he  learned  that  Cornelia 
was  studying  at  the  Synthesis,  he  professed  a  vivid 
interest  and  a  great  pleasure. 

"I  want  Huntley  to  paint  Miss  Maybough,"  he 
said.  "  Don't  you  think  he  would  do  it  tremendously 
well,  Miss  Sauuders  ?  " 


140  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

"  Miss  Saunders  is  going  to  paint  me,"  said  Char 
mian,  mystically. 

"  As  soon  as  I  get  to  the  round,"  said  Cornelia  to 
Charmian ;  she  was  rather  afraid  to  speak  to  the  dec 
orator.  "  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  want  to  be  painted 
with  block  hands." 

The  decorator  laughed,  and  Charmian  asked,  "  Isn't 
she  nice  not  to  say  anything  about  a  block  head? 
Very  few  Synthesis  girls  could  have  helped  it ;  it's  one 
of  the  oldest  Synthesis  jokes." 

The  young  man  smiled  sympathetically,  and  said  he 
was  sure  they  would  not  keep  Miss  Saunders  long  at 
the  block.  "  There's  a  friend  of  mine  I  should  like 
to  bring  here,  some  day." 

"  Mamma  would  be  glad  to  see  him,"  said  Charmian. 
"Who  is  it?" 

Somebody  began  to  sing :  a  full-bodiced  lady,  in  a 
bonnet,  and  with  an  over-arching  bust  distended  with 
chest-notes,  which  swelled  and  sank  tumultuously  to 
her  music ;  her  little  tightly-gloved  hands  seemed  of 
an  earlier  period.  Cornelia  lost  the  name  which  Mr. 
Plaisdell  gave,  in  the  first  outburst,  and  caught  noth 
ing  more  of  the  talk  which  Charmian  dropped,  and 
then  caught  up  again  when  the  hand-clapping  began. 

Some   of  the  people  went,  and  others  came,  with 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  141 

brief  devoirs  to  Mrs.  Maybough  in  the  crepuscular 
corner  where  she  sat.  The  tea  circulated  more  and 
more ;  the  babble  rose  and  fell ;  it  was  all  very  curious 
to  Cornelia,  who  had  never  seen  anything  like  it 
before,  and  quite  lost  the  sense  of  the  day  being  Sun 
day.  The  stout  lady's  song  had  been  serious,  if  not 
precisely  devotional  in  character ;  but  Cornelia  could 
not  have  profited  by  the  fact,  for  she  did  not  know 
German.  Mr.  Plaisdell  kept  up  his  talk  with  Char- 
mian,  and  she  caught  some  words  now  and  then  that 
showed  he  was  still  speaking  of  his  friend,  or  had 
recurred  to  him.  "  I'm  rather  dangerous  when  I  get 
started  on  him.  He's  working  out  of  his  mannerisms 
into  himself.  He's  a  great  fellow.  I'm  going  to  ask 
Mrs.  Maybough."  But  he  did  not  go  at  once.  He 
drew  nearer  Cornelia,  and  tried  to  include  her  in  the 
talk,  but  she  was  ashamed  to  find  that  she  was  difficult 
to  get  on  common  ground.  She  would  not  keep  on 
talking  Synthesis,  as  if  that  were  the  only  thing  she 
knew,  but  in  fact  she  did  not  know  much  else  in  New 
York,  even  about  art. 

"  Ah !  "  he  broke  off  to  Charmian,  with  a  lift  of  his 
head.  "  That's  too  bad  !  There  Jie  comes  now,  with 
Wetmore !  " 

Cornelia  looked  toward  Mrs.  Maybough  with  him. 


142  THE    COAST    OK    BOHEMIA. 

One  gentleman  was  presenting  another  to  Mrs.  May- 
bough.  They  got  through  with  her  as  quickly  as  most 
people  did,  and  then  they  made  their  way  toward  Cor 
nelia's  table.  She  had  just  time  to  govern  her  head 
and  hand  into  stony  rigidity,  when  Wetmore  came  up 
with  Ludlow,  whom  he  introduced  to  Charmian.  She 
was  going  to  extend  the  acquaintance  to  Cornelia,  but 
had  no  chance  before  Ludlow  took  Cornelia's  petrified 
fingers  and  bowed  over  them.  The  men  suppressed 
their  surprise,  if  they  had  any,  at  this  meeting  as  of 
old  friends,  but  Charmian  felt  no  obligation  to  silence. 

"  Where  in  the  world  have  you  met  before?  Why, 
Cornelia  Saunders,  why  didn't  you  say  you  knew  Mr. 
Ludlow  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  didn't  give  her  time,"  Ludlow  an 
swered. 

"  Yes,  but  we  were  just  speaking  of  you  —  Mr. 
Plaisdell  was  !  "  said  Charmian,  with  the  injury  still  in 
her  voice. 

"  I  didn't  hear  you  speak  of  him,"  Cornelia  said, 
with  a  vague  flutter  of  her  hands  toward  the  teacups. 

The  action  seemed  to  justify  Wetmore  to  himself  in 
saying,  "  Yes,  thank  you,  I  will  have  some  tea,  Miss 
Saunders,  and  then  I'll  get  some  one  to  introduce  me 
to  you.  You  haven't  seen  me  before,  and  I  can't 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  143 

stand  these  airs  of  Ludlow's."  He  made  them  laugh, 
and  Charmiau  introduced  them,  and  Cornelia  gave  him 
his  tea ;  then  Charmian  returned  to  her  grievance  and 
complained  to  Cornelia :  "  I  thought  you  didn't  know 
anybody  in  New  York." 

"Well,  it  seems  you  were  not  far  wrong,"  Wet- 
more  interposed.  "  I  don't  call  Ludlow  much  of  any 
body." 

"  You  don't  often  come  down  to  anything  as  crude 
as  that,  Wetmore,"  Ludlow  said. 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it.  But  I  was  driven  to  it,  this 
time ;  the  provocation  was  great." 

"  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Miss  Saunders  at 
home,  several  years  ago,"  Ludlow  said  in  obedience 
to  Charmian.  "  We  had  some  very  delightful  friends 
in  commmon,  there  —  old  friends  of  mine  —  at 
Pyman  toning." 

"  What  a  pretty  name,"  said  Mr.  Plaisdell.  "  What 
a  pity  that  none  of  our  great  cities  happen  to  have 
those  musical  Indian  names." 

"  Chicago,"  Wetmore  suggested. 

"  Yes,  Chicago  is  big,  and  the  name  is  Indian ;  but 
is  it  pretty  ?  " 

"  You  can't  have  everything.  I  don't  suppose  it  is 
very  decorative." 


144  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  Pymantoning  is  as  pretty  as  its  name,"  said  Lud- 
low.  "  It  has  the  loveliness  of  a  level,  to  begin  with  ; 
we're  so  besotted  with  mountains  in  the  East  that  we 
don't  know  how  lovely  a  level  is." 

"  The  sea,"  Wetmore  suggested  again. 

"  Well,  yes,  that's  occasionally  level,"  Ludlow  ad 
mitted.  "  But  it  hasn't  got  white  houses  with  green 
blinds  behind  black  ranks  of  maples  in  the  moonlight." 

"  If  '  good  taste  '  could  have  had  its  way,  the  white 
house  with  green  blinds  would  have  been  a  thing  of 
the  past,"  said  the  decorator.  "  And  they  were  a 
genuine  instinct,  an  inspiration,  with  our  people.  The 
white  paint  is  always  beautiful, — as  marble  is.  People 
tried  to  replace  it  with  mud-color  —  the  color  of  the 
ground  the  house  was  built  on  !  I  congratulate  Miss 
Saunders  on  the  conservatism  of  Py  —  ?  " 

"  Pymantoning,"  said  Cornelia,  eager  to  contribute 
something  to  the  talk,  and  then  vexed  to  have  it  made 
much  of  by  Mr.  Plaisdell. 

Wetmore  was  looking  away.  He  floated  lightly  off, 
with  the  buoyancy  which  is  sometimes  the  property  of 
people  of  his  bulk,  and  Ludlow  remained  talking  with 
Charmian.  Then,  with  what  was  like  the  insensible 
transition  of  dreams  to  her,  he  was  talking  with  Cor 
nelia.  He  said  he  had  been  meaning  to  come  and  see 


"SHE    KNEW    THAT    HE    WAS    IfiNORING    HER    BEHAVIOR." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  145 

her  all  the  week  past,  but  he  had  been  out  of  town, 
and  very  busy,  and  he  supposed  she  was  occupied  with 
looking  about  and  getting  settled.  He  did  not  make 
out  a  very  clear  case,  she  choose  to  think,  and  she  was 
not  sure  but  he  was  treating  her  still  aa  a  child,  and 
she  tried  to  think  how  she  could  make  him  realize  that 
she  was  not.  He  seemed  quite  surprised  to  hear  that 
she  had  been  at  work  in  the  Synthesis  ever  since 
Tuesday.  He  complimented  her  energy,  and  asked, 
not  how  she  was  getting  on  there,  but  how  she  liked 
it ;  she  answered  stiffly,  and  she  knew  that  he  was 
ignoring  her  blunt  behavior  as  something  she  could 
not  help,  and  that  vexed  her  the  more ;  she  wished 
to  resist  his  friendliness  because  she  did  not  de 
serve  it.  She  kept  seeing  how  handsome  he  was, 
with  his  brilliant  brown  beard,  and  his  hazel  eyes. 
There  were  points  of  sunny  light  in  his  eyes,  when  he 
smiled,  and  then  his  teeth  shone  very  white.  He  did 
not  smile  very  much  ;  she  liked  his  being  serious  and 
not  making  speeches ;  she  wished  she  could  do  some, 
thing  to  make  him  think  her  less  of  an  auk,  but  when 
she  tried,  it  was  only  worse.  He  did  not  say  anything 
to  let  her  think  he  had  changed  his  mind  as  to  the 
wisdom  of  her  coming  to  study  art  in  New  York ;  and 

she  liked  that ;  she  should  have  hated  him  if  he  had. 
10 


146  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  Have  you  got  that  little  Manet,  yet  ?  "  Mr.  Plais- 
dell  broke  in  upon  them.  "  I  was  telling  Miss  May- 
bough  about  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Ludlow.  "It's  at  my  place.  Why 
won't  Miss  Maybough  and  Miss  Saunders  come  and 
see  it  ?  You'll  come,  won't  you,  Miss  Maybough  ?  " 

"  If  mamma  will  let  me,"  said  Charmian,  meekly. 

"  Of  course !     Suppose  we  go  ask  her  ?  " 

The  friends  of  Mrs.  Maybough  had  now  reduced 
themselves  to  Wetmore,  who  sat  beside  her,  looking 
over  at  the  little  tea-table  group.  Ludlow  led  the 
rest  toward  her. 

"  What  an  imprudence,"  he  called  out,  "  when  I'd 
just  been  booming  you  !  Now  you  come  up  in  person 
to  spoil  everything." 

Ludlow  presented  his  petition,  and  Mrs.  Maybough 
received  it  with  her  provisional  anxiety  till  he  named 
the  day  for  the  visit.  She  said  she  had  an  engage 
ment  for  Saturday  afternoon,  and  Ludlow  ventured, 
"  Then  perhaps  you'd  let  the  young  ladies  come  with 
a  friend  of  mine:  Mrs.  Westley.  She'll  be  glad  to 
call  for  them,  I'm  sure." 

"  Mrs.  General  Westley  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"We  met  them  in  Rome,"  said  Mrs.  Maybough.  "I 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  147 

shall  be  very  happy,  indeed,  for  my  daughter.  But 
you  know  Miss  Saunders  —  is  not  staying  with  us  ?  " 

"Miss  Saunders  will  be  very  happy  for  herself," 
said  Charmian. 

The  men  took  their  leave,  and  Charmian  seized  the 
first  moment  to  breathe  in  Cornelia's  ear :  "  Oh,  what 
luck !  I  didn't  suppose  he  would  do  it,  when  I  got 
Mr.  Plaisdell  to  hint  about  that  Manet.  And  it's  all 
for  you.  Now  come  into  my  room  and  tell  me  every 
thing  about  it.  You  have  got  to  stay  for  dinner." 

"No,  no;  I  can't,"  Cornelia  gasped.  "And  I'm 
not  going  to  his  studio.  He  asked  me  because  he  had 
to." 

"  I  should  think  he  did  have  to.  He  talked  to  you 
as  if  there  was  no  one  else  here.  How  did  you  meet 
him  before  ?  When  did  you  ?  "  She  could  not  wait 
for  Cornelia  to  say,  but  broke  out  with  fresh  astonish 
ment.  "  Why,  Walter  Ludlow  !  Do  you  know  who 
Walter  Ludlow  is  ?  He's  one  of  the  greatest  painters 
in  New  York.  He's  the  greatest !  " 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Wetmore  ?  "  Cornelia  asked  evasively. 

"Don't  name  him  in  the  same  century!  He's 
grand,  too  I  Does  those  little  Meissonier  things.  He's 
going  to  paint  mamma.  She's  one  of  his  types.  He 
must  have  brought  Mr.  Ludlow  to  see  me.  But  he 


148  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

didn't.  He  saw  nobody  but  you !  Oh  Cornelia !  " 
She  caught  Cornelia  in  her  arms. 

"  Don't  be  a  goose !  "  said  Cornelia,  struggling  to 
get  away. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  all  about  it,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes.     But  it  isn't  anything." 

At  the  end  of  the  story  Charmian  sighed,  "  How 
romantic !  Of  course,  he's  simply  in  a  frenzy  till  he 
sees  you  again.  I  don't  believe  he  can  live  through  the 
week." 

"  He'll  have  to  live  through  several,"  said  Cor 
nelia  ;  "  You  can  excuse  me  when  you  go.  He's  very 
conceited,  and  he  talks  to  you  as  if  he  were  a  thou 
sand  years  old.  I  think  Mr.  Plaisdell  is  a  great 
deal  nicer.  He  doesn't  treat  you  as  if  you  were  —  I 
don't  know  what  1 " 


XX. 

THE  next  day  Cornelia  found  herself  the  object  of 
rumors  that  filled  the  Synthesis.  She  knew  that  they 
all  came  from  Charmian,  and  that  she  could  not  hope 
to  overtake  them  with  denial.  The  ridiculous  ro 
mances  multiplied  themselves,  and  those  who  did  not 
understand  that  Cornelia  and  Ludlow  had  grown  up 
together  in  the  same  place,  or  were  first  cousins,  had 
been  encouraged  to  believe  that  they  were  old  lovers, 
who  had  quarrelled,  and  never  spoken  till  they  happened 
to  meet  at  Mrs.  Maybough's.  Ludlow  was  noted  for 
a  certain  reticence  and  austerity  with  women,  which 
might  well  have  come  from  an  unhappy  love-affair; 
once  when  he  took  one  of  the  instructor's  classes  at 
the  Synthesis  temporarily,  his  forbidding  urbanity  was 
so  glacial,  that  the  girls  scarcely  dared  to  breathe  in 
his  presence,  and  left  it  half-frozen.  The  severest  of 
the  masters,  with  all  his  sarcasm,  was  simply  nothing 
to  him. 

Cornelia  liked  to  hear  that.  She  should  have 
despised  Ludlow  if  she  had  heard  he  was  silly  with 


150  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

girls,  and  she  did  not  wish  to  despise  him,  though 
she  knew  that  he  despised  her ;  she  could  bear  that. 
The  Synthesis  praises  made  her  the  more  determined, 
however,  to  judge  his  recent  work  when  she  came  to 
see  it,  just  as  she  would  judge  any  one's  work.  But 
first  of  all  she  meant  not  to  see  it. 

She  seemed  to  have  more  trouble  in  bringing  herself 
back  to  this  point  than  in  keeping  Charmian  to  it. 
Charmian  came  to  believe  her  at  last,  after  declaring 
it  the  rudest  thing  she  ever  heard  of,  and  asking  Cor 
nelia  what  she  expected  to  say  to  Mrs.  Westley  when 
she  came  for  her.  Cornelia  could  never  quite  believe 
it  herself,  though  she  strengthened  her  purpose  with 
repeated  affirmation,  tacit  and  explicit,  and  said  it 
would  be  very  easy  to  tell  Mrs.  Westley  she  was  not 
going,  if  she  ever  did  come  for  her.  She  could  not 
keep  Charmian  from  referring  the  case  to  every  one 
on  the  steps  and  window-sills  in  the  Synthesis,  and  at 
the  sketch-class,  where  Charmian  published  it  the  first 
time  Cornelia  came,  and  wove  a  romance  from  it  which 
involved  herself  as  the  close  friend  and  witness  of  so 
strange  a  being. 

Cornelia  tried  not  to  let  all  this  interfere  with  her 
work,  but  it  did,  and  at  the  sketch-class  where  she 
might  have  shown  some  rebound  from  the  servile 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  151 

work  of  the  Preparatory,  and  some  originality,  she 
disappointed  those  whom  Charmian  had  taught  to  ex 
pect  anything  of  her.  They  took  her  rustic  hauteur 
and  her  professed  indifference  to  the  distinction  of 
Ludlow's  invitation,  as  her  pose.  She  went  home 
from  the  class  vexed  to  tears  by  her  failure,  and 
puzzled  to  know  what  she  really  should  say  to  that 
Mrs.  Westley  when  she  came ;  it  wouldn't  be  so  easy 
to  tell  her  she  was  not  going,  after  all.  Cornelia 
hated  her,  and  wished  she  would  not  come  ;  she  had 
let  the  whole  week  go  by,  now,  till  Thursday,  and 
perhaps  she  really  would  not  come.  The  girl  knew 
so  little  of  the  rigidity  of  city  dates  that  she  thought 
very  likely  Mrs.  Westley  had  decided  to  put  it  off 
till  another  week. 

She  let  herself  into  her  boarding-house  with  her 
latch-key  and  stood  confronted  in  the  hall  with  Lud- 
low,  who  was  giving  some  charge  to  the  maid.  "  Oh, 
Miss  Saunders,"  he  said,  and  he  put  the  card  he  held 
into  his  pocket,  "  I'm  so  glad  not  to  miss  you  ;  I  was 
just  leaving  a  written  message,  but  now  I  can  tell 
you." 

He  hesitated,  and  Cornelia  did  not  know  what  to 
do.  But  she  said,  "Won't  you  come  in?"  with  a 
vague  movement  toward  the  parlor. 


152  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  Why,  yes,  thank  you,  for  a  moment,"  he  said : 
and  he  went  back  with  her. 

"  I  hope  I  haven't  kept  you  waiting,"  she  said, 
with  a  severity  which  was  for  her  own  awkwardness. 

He  did  not  take  it  for  himself.  "  Oh,  no !  I've 
just  come  from  Mrs.  "Westley's,  and  she's  charged  me 
with  a  message  for  you."  He  handed  Cornelia  a  note. 
"  She  will  call  for  you  and  Miss  May  bough  at  the 
Synthesis  rather  earlier  than  you  usually  leave  work, 
I  believe,  but  I  want  you  to  have  some  daylight  on 
my  Manet.  I  hope  half-past  two  won't  be  too  early  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Cornelia,  and  while  she  wondered 
how  she  could  make  this  opening  of  assent  turn  to 
refusal  in  the  end,  Ludlow  went  on  : 

*'  There's  something  of  my  own,  that  I'd  like  to 
have  you  look  at.  Of  course,  you  won't  get  away 
with  the  Manet,  alone ;  I  don't  suppose  you  expected 
that.  I've  an  idea  you  can  tell  me  where  I've  gone 
wrong,  if  I  have ;  it's  all  a  great  while  ago.  Have 
you  ever  been  at  the  County  Fair  at  Pymantoning 
since  "  — 

He  stopped,  and  Cornelia  perceived  that  it  was  with 
doubt  whether  it  might  not  still  be  a  tender  point  with 
her. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I've  forgiven  the  Fair  long  ago."  She 
laughed,  and  he  laughed  with  her. 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  153 

"  It's  best  not  to  keep  a  grudge  against  a  defeat,  I 
suppose.  If  we  do,  it  won't  help  us.  I've  had  my 
quarrel  with  the  Pymantoning  County  Fair,  too ;  but 
it  wasn't  with  the  Fine  Arts  Committee." 

"  No,  I  didn't  suppose  you  wanted  to  exhibit  any 
thing  there,"  said  Cornelia. 

"Why,  I  don't  know.  It  might  be  a  very  good 
thing  for  me.  Why  not  ?  I'd  like  to  exhibit  this 
very  picture  there.  It's  an  impression  —  not  just 
what  I'd  do,  now  —  of  the  trotting-match  I  saw  there 
that  day." 

"  Yes,"  said  Cornelia,  letting  her  eyes  fall,  "  Mrs. 
Burton  said  you  had  painted  it,  or  you  were  going  to." 

"Well,  I  did,"  said  Ludlow,  "and  nobody  seemed 
to  know  what  I  was  after.  I  wonder  if  they  would  in 
Pymantoning !  But  what  I  wanted  to  ask  was  that 
you  would  try  to  look  at  it  from  the  Pymantoning 
point  of  view.  I  hope  you  haven't  lost  that  yet  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  haven't  been  away  such  a  great  while," 
said  Cornelia,  smiling. 

"  No ;  but  still,  one  sophisticates  in  New  York  very 
soon.  I'll  tell  you  what  I've  got  a  notion  of !  Well, 
it's  all  very  much  in  the  air,  yet,  but  so  far  as  I've 
thought  it  out,  it's  the  relation  of  our  art  to  our  life. 
It  sounds  rather  boring,  I  know,  and  I  suppose  I'm  a 


154  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

bit  of  a  theorist ;  I  always  was.  It's  easy  enough  to 
prove  to  the  few  that  our  life  is  full  of  poetry  and  pic- 
turesqueuess ;  but  can  I  prove  it  to  the  many  ?  Can 
the  people  themselves  be  made  to  see  it  and  feel  it  ? 
That's  the  question.  Can  they  be  interested  in  a  pic 
ture —  a  real  work  of  art  that  asserts  itself  in  a  good 
way  ?  Can  they  be  taught  to  care  for  my  impression  of 
the  trotting-match  at  the  Pymantoning  County  Fair, 
as  much  as  they  would  for  a  chromo  of  the  same  thing, 
and  be  made  to  feel  that  there  was  something  more  in 
it  perhaps  ?  " 

He  sat  fronting  her,  with  his  head  down  over  the  hat 
he  held  between  his  hands ;  now  he  lifted  his  face  and 
looked  into  hers.  She  smiled  at  his  earnestness,  and 
for  a  little  instant  felt  herself  older  and  wiser  in  her 
practicality. 

"  You  might  send  it  out  to  the  next  County  Fair,  and 
see." 

"  Why,  that's  just  what  I  thought  of !  "  he  said,  and 
he  laughed.  "  Do  you  suppose  they  would  let  me  ex 
hibit  it  in  the  Fine  Arts  Department  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  they  would  give  you  the  first  pre 
mium,"  said  Cornelia. 

"  Well,  well,  then  I  should  have  to  put  up  with  the 
second!  I  should  like  to  get  the  first,  I  confess," 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  155 

Ludlow  went  on  seriously.  "  The  premium  would 
mean  something  to  me  —  not  so  much,  of  course,  as  a 
popular  recognition.  What  do  you  think  the  chance 
of  that  would  be  ?  " 

"Well,  I  haven't  seen  the  picture  yet,"  Cornelia 
suggested. 

"Ah,  that's  true!  I  forgot  that,"  he  said,  and 
they  both  laughed.  "  But  what  do  you  think  of  my 
theory  ?  It  seems  to  me,"  and  now  he  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  and  smiled  upon  her  with  that  bright  earnest- . 
ness  which  women  always  found  charming  in  him,  "  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  worst  effect  of  an  artist's  life  is  to 
wrap  him  up  in  himself,  and  separate  him  from  his 
kind.  Even  if  he  goes  in  for  what  they  call  popular 
subjects,  he  takes  from  the  many  and  gives  to  the  few ; 
he  ought  to  give  something  back  to  the  crowd  —  he 
ought  to  give  everything  back.  But  the  terrible  ques 
tion  is  whether  they'll  have  it ;  and  he  has  no  means 
of  finding  out." 

"  And  you've  come  to  one  of  the  crowd  to  inquire  ?  " 
Cornelia  asked.  Up  to  that  moment  she  had  been 
flattered,  too,  by  his  serious  appeal  to  her,  and  gener 
ously  pleased.  But  the  chance  offered,  and  she  per 
versely  seized  it. 

He  protested  with  a  simple  "  Ah ! "  and  she  was 
ashamed. 


156  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  hurried  on  to  say.  "  I  never 
thought  about  it  in  that  way." 

"  Well,  it  isn't  so  simple  any  more,  after  you  once 
begin.  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  be  at  peace  quite  till  1 
try  what  I  can  do ;  and  seeing  you  Sunday  brought 
Pymantoning  all  so  freshly  back,  that  I've  been  won 
dering,  from  time  to  time,  ever  since,  whether  you 
could  possibly  help  me." 

"  I  will  try,  as  the  good  little  boy  said,"  Cornelia 
assented. 

"It  makes  me  feel  like  a  good  little  boy  to  have 
asked  it."  Ludlow  did  not  profit  by  the  chance  which 
the  conclusion  of  their  agreement  offered  him,  to  go. 
He  stayed  and  talked  on,  and  from  time  to  time  he 
recurred  to  what  he  had  asked,  and  said  he  was  afraid 
she  would  think  he  was  using  her,  and  tried  to  explain 
that  he  really  was  not,  but  was  approaching  her  most 
humbly  for  her  opinion.  He  could  not  make  it  out, 
but  they  got  better  and  better  acquainted  in  the  fun 
they  had  with  his  failures.  It  went  on  till  Cornelia 
said,  "  Now,  really,  if  you  keep  it  up,  I  shall  have 
to  stand  you  in  the  corner,  with  your  face  to  the 
wall." 

"  Oh,  do !  "  he  entreated.  "  It  would  be  such  a  re 
lief." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  157 

"You  know  I  was  a  teacher  two  winters,"  she  said, 
"  and  have  actually  stood  boys  in  corners." 

That  seemed  to  interest  him  afresh ;  he  made  her 
tell  him  all  about  her  school-teaching.  He  stayed  till 
the  bell  rang  for  dinner,  and  he  suffered  a  decent  mo 
ment  to  pass  before  he  rose  then. 

"  After  all,"  he  said  at  parting,  "  I  think  you'd 
better  decide  that  it's  merely  my  Manet  you're  coming 
to  see." 

"  Yes,  merely  the  Manet,"  Cornelia  assented.  "  If  I 
choose,  the  Ludlows  will  all  be  stood  in  the  corners 
with  their  faces  to  the  wall." 

She  found  her  own  face  very  flushed,  when  she 
climbed  up  to  her  room  for  a  moment  before  going  in 
to  dinner,  and  her  heart  seemed  to  be  beating  in  her 
neck.  She  looked  at  Mrs.  Westley's  note.  It  stated 
everything  so  explicitly  that  she  did  not  see  why  Mr. 
Ludlow  need  have  come  to  explain.  She  remembered 
now  that  she  had  forgotten  to  tell  him  she  was  not 
going. 


XXI. 

CORNELIA  thought  Mrs.  Westley  would  come  for 
Charmian  and  herself  in  her  carriage ;  but  when  they 
went  down  to  her  in  the  Synthesis  office,  they  found 
that  she  had  planned  to  walk  with  them  to  Ludlow's 
studio.  She  said  it  was  not  a  great  way  off ;  and  she 
had  got  into  the  habit  of  walking  there,  when  he  was 
painting  her;  she  supposed  they  would  rather  walk  after 
their  work.  Cornelia  said  "  Oh,  yes,"  and  Charmian 
asked,  at  her  perfervidest,  Had  Mr.  Ludlow  painted 
her  ?  and  Mrs.  Westley  answered  calmly,  Yes ;  she 
believed  he  did  not  think  it  very  successful ;  her  hus 
band  liked  it,  though.  Charmian  said,  Oh,  how  much 
she  should  like  to  see  it,  and  Mrs.  Westley  said  she 
must  show  it  her  some  time.  Cornelia  thought  Mrs. 
Westley  very  pretty,  but  she  decided  that  she  did  not 
care  to  see  Ludlow's  picture  of  her. 

His  studio  stood  a  little  back  from  the  sidewalk ;  it 
was  approached  by  a  broad  sloping  pavement,  and  had 
two  wide  valves  for  the  doorway.  He  opened  the  door 
himself,  at  their  ring,  and  they  found  themselves  in 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  159 

a  large,  gray  room  which  went  to  the  roof,  with  its 
vaulted  ceiling ;  this  was  pierced  with  a  vast  window, 
that  descended  half-way  down  the  northward  wall. 
"  My  studio  started  in  life  as  a  gentleman's  stable ; 
then  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  sculptor,  and  then  it  got 
as  low  as  a  painter."  He  said  to  Charmian,  "  Mr. 
Plaisdell  has  told  me  how  ingeniously  you  treated  one 
of  your  rooms  that  you  took  for  a  studio." 

Charmian  answered  with  dark  humility,  "But  a 
studio  without  a  painter  in  it !  "  and  there  were  some 
offers  and  refusals  of  compliment  between  them,  which 
ended  in  his  saying  that  he  would  like  to  see  her 
studio,  and  her  saying  that  Mrs.  Maybough  would 
always  be  glad  to  see  him.  Then  he  talked  with  Mrs. 
Westley,  who  was  very  pleasant  to  Cornelia  while  the 
banter  with  Charmian  went  on,  and  proposed  to  show 
his  pictures ;  he  fancied  that  was  what  he  had  got 
them  there,  for ;  but  he  would  make  a  decent  pretence 
of  the  Manet,  first. 

The  Manet  was  one  of  that  painter's  most  exces 
sive  ;  it  was  almost  insolent  in  its  defiance  of  the 
old  theory  and  method  of  art.  "  He  had  to  go  too 
far,  in  those  days,  or  he  wouldn't  have  arrived  any 
where,"  Ludlow  said,  dreamily,  as  he  stood  looking 
with  them  at  the  picture.  "  He  fell  back  to  the  point 


160  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

he  had  really  meant  to  reach."  He  put  the  picture 
away  amidst  the  sighs  and  murmurs  of  Mrs.  Westley 
and  Charmian,  and  the  silence  of  Cornelia,  which  he 
did  not  try  to  break.  He  began  to  show  his  own  pic 
tures,  taking  them  at  random,  as  it  seemed,  from  the 
ranks  of  canvasses  faced  against  the  wall.  "  You 
know  we  impressionists  are  nothing  if  not  prolific,"  he 
said,  and  he  kept  turning  the  frame  on  his  easel,  now 
for  a  long  picture,  and  now  for  a  tall  one.  The  praises 
of  the  others  followed  him,  but  Cornelia  could  not 
speak.  Some  of  the  pictures  she  did  not  like ;  some 
she  thought  were  preposterous ;  but  there  were  some 
that  she  found  brilliantly  successful,  and  a  few  that 
charmed  her  with  their  delicate  and  tender  poetry. 
He  said  something  about  most  of  them,  in  apology  or 
extenuation ;  Cornelia  believed  that  she  knew  which 
he  liked  by  his  not  saying  anything  of  them. 

Suddenly  he  set  a  large  picture  on  the  easel  that 
quite  filled  the  frame.  "  Trotting  Match  at  the  Py- 
mantoning  County  Fair,"  he  announced,  and  he  turned 
away  and  began  to  make  tea  in  a  little  battered  copper 
kettle  over  a  spirit-lamp,  on  a  table  strewn  with  color- 
tubes  in  the  corner. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Westley.  "  I  remember  this 
at  the  American  Artists ;  three  or  four  years  ago, 


THE    CO4-ST    OF    BOHEMIA.  161 

wasn't  it  ?  But  you've  done  something  to  it,  haven't 
you  ?  " 

"  Improved  with  age,"  said  Ludlow,  with  his  back 
toward  them,  bent  above  his  tea-kettle.  "That's 
all." 

"  It  seems  like  painting  a  weed,  though,"  said  Char- 
niian.  "  How  can  you  care  for  such  subjects?" 

Ludlow  came  up  to  her  with  the  first  cup  of  tea. 
"  It's  no  use  to  paint  lilies,  you  know." 

"  Do  you  call  that  an  answer  ?  " 

"  A  poor  one." 

He  brought  Mrs.  Westley  some  tea,  and  then  he 
came  to  Cornelia  with  a  cup  in  each  hand,  one  for  her, 
and  one  for  himself,  and  frankly  put  himself  between 
her  and  the  others.  "  Well,  what  do  you  think  of 
it  ?  "  he  asked,  as  if  there  were  no  one  else  but  they 
two. 

She  felt  a  warm  flush  of  pleasure  in  his  boldness. 
"  1  don't  know.  It's  like  it ;  that's  the  way  I've  al 
ways  seen  it ;  and  it's  beautiful.  But  somehow  " — 

"What?" 

"  It  looks  as  if  it  were  somewhere  else." 

"  You've  hit  it,"  said  Ludlow.  "  It  serves  me 
right.  You  see  I  was  so  anxious  to  prove  that  an 

American  subject  was  just  as  susceptible  of  impres- 
11 


162  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

sionistic  treatment  as  a  French  one,  that  I  made  this 
look  as  French  as  I  could.  I  must  do  it  again  and 
more  modestly ;  not  be  so  patronizing.  I  should  like 
to  come  out  there  next  fall  again,  and  see  another 
trotting-match.  I  suppose  they'll  have  one  ?  " 

"  They  always  have  them  ;  it  wouldn't  be  the  Fair 
without  them,"  said  Cornelia. 

"  Well,  I  must  come,  and  somehow  do  it  on  the 
spot ;  that's  the  only  way."  He  pulled  himself  more 
directly  in  front  of  her  and  ignored  the  others,  who 
talked  about  his  picture  with  faded  interest  to  each 
other,  and  then  went  about,  and  looked  at  the  objects 
in  the  studio.  "  I  don't  think  I  made  myself  quite 
clear  the  other  day,  about  what  I  wanted  to  do  in  this 
way."  He  plunged  into  the  affair  again,  and  if  Cor 
nelia  did  not  understand  it  better,  it  was  not  for  want 
of  explanation.  Perhaps  she  did  not  listen  very 
closely.  All  the  time  she  thought  how  brilliantly 
handsome  he  was,  and  how  fine,  by  every  worldly 
criterion.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that  is  something  I  have 
been  thinking  of  ever  since  my  picture  failed  with  the 
public  ;  it  deserved  to  fail,  and  you've  made  it  so  clear 
why,  that  I  can't  refuse  to  know,  or  to  keep  myself  in 
the  dark  about  it  any  longer.  I  don't  believe  we  can 
take  much  from  the  common  stock  of  life  in  any  way, 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  163 

and  find  the  thing  at  all  real  in  our  hands,  without  in 
tending  to  give  something  back.  Do  you  ?  " 

Cornelia  had  never  thought  about  it  before  ;  she  did 
not  try  to  pretend  that  she  had ;  it  seemed  a  little 
fantastic  to  her,  but  it  flattered  her  to  have  him  talk 
to  her  about  it,  and  she  liked  his  seriousness.  He  did 
not  keep  up  the  kind  of  banter  with  her  that  he  did 
with  Charmian  ;  he  did  not  pay  her  compliments,  and 
she  hated  compliments  from  men. 

Ludlow  went  off  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Westley  of  some 
thing  he  saw  her  looking  at ;  Charmian  edged  nearer 
to  Cornelia.  "  I  would  give  the  world  to  be  in  your 
place.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it.  Keep  on  look 
ing  just  as  you  are!  It's  magnificent.  Such  color, 
and  that  queenly  pose  of  the  head  !  It  would  kill 
those  Synthesis  girls  if  they  knew  how  he  had  been 
talking  to  you.  My,  if  I  could  get  anybody  to  be 
serious  with  me  !  Talk !  Say  something !  Do  you 
think  it's  going  to  rain  before  we  get  home  ?  His  eyes 
keep  turning  this  way,  all  the  time ;  you  can't  see 
them,  but  they  do.  lam  glad  I  foought  my  umbrella. 
Have  you  got  your  waterproof?  I'm  going  to  make 
you  tell  me  every  word  he  said  when  he  came  to  see 
you  yesterday  ;  it'll  be  mean  if  you  don't.  No,  I  think 
I  shall  go  up  by  the  elevated,  and  then  take  the  surface- 


164  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

car  across.  It's  the  most  romantic  thing  I  ever  heard 
of.  No,  I  don't  believe  it  will  be  dark.  Speak!  Say 
something  !  You  mustn't  let  me  do  all  the  talking ; 
he'll  notice." 

Cornelia  began  to  laugh,  and  Charmian  turned 
away  and  joined  Mrs.  Westley  and  Ludlow,  who  were 
tilting  outward  some  of  the  canvasses  faced  against  the 
wall,  and  talking  them  over.  Cornelia  followed  her, 
and  they  all  four  loitered  over  the  paintings,  luxuri 
ously  giving  a  glance  at  each,  and  saying  a  word  or 
two  about  it.  "  Yes,"  Ludlow  said,  "  sometimes  I 
used  to  do  three  or  four  of  them  a  day.  I  work  more 
slowly  now ;  if  you  want  to  get  any  thinking  in,  you've 
got  to  take  time  to  it/' 

It  was  growing  dark ;  Ludlow  proposed  to  see  them 
all  home  one  after  another.  Mrs.  Westley  said  no, 
indeed ;  the  Broadway  car,  at  the  end  of  the  second 
block,  would  leave  her  within  three  minutes  of  her 
door. 

"  And  nothing  could  happen  in  three  minutes,"  said 
Ludlow.  "  That  stands  to  reason." 

"And  my  one  luxury  is  going  home  alone,"  said 
Charmian.  "  Mamma  doesn't  allow  it,  except  to  and 
from  the  Synthesis.  Then  I'm  an  art  student  and 
perfectly  safe.  If  I  were  a  young  lady  my  life 
wouldn't  be  worth  anything." 


THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  165 

"Yes,"  Ludlow  assented,  "the  great  thing  is  to 
have  some  sort  of  business  to  be  where  you  are." 

"  I  know  a  girl  who's  in  some  of  the  charities,  and 
she  goes  about  at  all  hours  of  the  night,  and  nobody 
speaks  to  her,"  said  Charmian. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Ludlow,  "  I  don't  see  that  there's 
anything  for  me  to  do,  unless  we  all  go  together  with 
Mrs.  Wesley  to  get  her  Broadway  car,  and  then  keep 
on  to  the  Elevated  with  you,  Miss  Maybough.  Miss 
Saunders  may  be  frightened  enough  then  to  let  me 
walk  to  her  door  with  her.  A  man  likes  to  be  of  some 
little  use  in  the  world." 

They  had  some  mild  fun  about  the  weakness  of  Cor 
nelia  in  needing  an  escort.  She  found  it  best  to  own 
that  she  did  not  quite  know  her  way  home,  and  was 
afraid  to  ask  if  she  got  puzzled. 

Ludlow  put  out  his  spirit-lamp,  which  had  been 
burning  blue  all  the  time,  and  embittering  the  tea  in 
the  kettle  over  it,  and  then  they  carried  out  their  plan. 
Cornelia  went  before  with  Mrs.  Westley,  who  asked 
her  to  come  to  her  on  her  day,  whenever  she  could 
leave  her  work  for  such  a  reckless  dissipation.  At  the 
foot  of  the  Elevated  station  stairs,  where  Charmian 
inflexibly  required  that  they  should  part  with  her,  in 
the  interest  of  the  personal  liberty  which  she  prized 


166  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

above  personal  safety,  she  embraced  Cornelia  for 
mally,  and  then  added  an  embrace  of  a  more  specific 
character,  and  whispered  to  her  ear,  "  You're  glorious !  " 
and  fled  up  the  station  stairs. 

Cornelia  understood  that  she  was  glorious  because 
Mr.  Ludlow  was  walking  home  with  her,  and  that 
Charmian  was  giving  the  fact  a  significance  out  of  all 
reason.  They  talked  rather  soberly,  as  two  people  do 
when  a  gayer  third  has  left  them,  and  they  had  little 
silences.  They  spoke  of  Charmian,  and  Cornelia 
praised  her  beauty  and  her  heart,  and  said  how  every 
body  liked  her  at  the  Synthesis. 

"  Do  they  laugh  at  her  a  little,  too  ? "  Ludlow 
asked. 

"Why?" 

"  She's  rather  romantic." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  all  girls  were  romantic." 

"  Yes  ?     You're  not." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  the  girl.  "  I'm 
a  great  deal  more  romantic  than  is  good  for  me.  Don't 
you  like  romantic  people  ?  I  do !  " 

"I  don't  believe  I  do,"  said  Ludlow.  "They're 
rather  apt  to  make  trouble.  I  don't  mean  Miss  May- 
bough.  She'll  probably  take  it  out  in  madly  impossi 
ble  art.  Can  she  draw  ?  " 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  167 

Cornelia  did  not  like  to  say  what  she  thought  of 
Charmian's  drawing,  exactly.  She  said,  "  Well,  I 
don't  know." 

Ludlow  hastened  to  say,  "  I  oughtn't  to  have  asked 
that  about  your  friend." 

"  We're  both  in  the  Preparatory,  you  know,"  Cor 
nelia  explained.  "  I  think  Charmian  has  a  great  deal 
of  imagination." 

"  Well,  that's  a  good  thing,  if  it  doesn't  go  too  far. 
Fortunately  it  can't,  in  the  Preparatory." 

At  her  door  Cornelia  did  not  know  whether  to  ask 
him  in,  as  she  would  have  done  in  Pymantoning ;  she 
ended  by  not  even  offering  him  her  hand ;  but  he  took 
it  all  the  same,  as  if  he  had  expected  her  to  offer  it. 


XXII. 

CORNELIA  found  herself  in  her  room  without  know 
ing  how  she  got  there,  or  how  long  she  had  been 
there,  when  the  man-voiced  Irish  girl  came  up  and 
said  something  to  her.  She  did  not  understand  at 
first ;  then  she  made  out  that  there  was  a  gentleman 
asking  for  her  in  the  parlor ;  and  with  a  glance  at  her 
face  in  the  glass,  she  ran  down  stairs.  She  knew  it 
was  Ludlow,  and  that  he  had  thought  of  something 
he  wanted  to  say,  and  had  come  back.  It  must  be 
something  very  important ;  it  might  be  an  invitation  to 
go  with  him  somewhere ;  she  wondered  if  they  would 
have  a  chaperone. 

In  the  vague  light  of  the  long  parlor,  where  a  single 
burner  was  turned  half  up,  because  it  was  not  yet 
dark  outside,  a  figure  rose  from  one  of  the  sofas  and 
came  toward  her  with  one  hand  extended  iu  gay 
and  even  jocose  greeting.  It  was  the  figure  of  a 
young  man,  with  a  high  forehead,  and  with  nothing 
to  obstruct  the  view  of  the  Shakespearian  dome  it 
mounted  into,  except  a  modest  growth  of  hair  above 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  169 

either  ear.  He  was  light  upon  his  feet,  and  he 
advanced  with  a  rhythmical  step.  Cornelia  tried  to 
make  believe  that  she  did  not  know  who  it  was ;  she 
recoiled,  but  her  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  her 
mouth,  and  she  could  not  gainsay  him  when  he 
demanded  joyfully,  "  Why,  Nic !  Why,  Nelie !  Don't 
you  remember  me  ?  Dickerson,  J.  B.,  with  Gates  & 
Clarkson,  art  goods?  Py  man  toning?  Days  of  yore, 
generally  ?  Oh,  pshaw,  now  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember  you,"  said  Cornelia,  in  a  voice  as 
cold  as  the  finger-tips  which  she  inwardly  raged  to 
think  she  gave  him,  but  was  helpless  to  refuse,  simply 
because  he  was  holding  out  his  hand  to  her. 

"  Well,  it's  good  for  sore  eyes  to  see  you  again," 
said  Mr.  Dickerson,  closing  both  of  his  hands  on  hers. 
"  Let's  see  ;  it's  four  years  ago  !  How  the  time  flies  ! 
I  declare,  it  don't  hardly  seem  a  day.  Mustn't  tell 
you  how  you've  grown,  I  suppose  ?  Well,  we  weren't 
much  more  than  children,  then,  anyhow.  Set  down ! 
I'm  at  home  here.  Old  stamping-ground  of  mine, 
when  I'm  in  New  York ;  our  house  has  its  headquar 
ters  in  New  York,  now;  everything's  got  to  come, 
sooner  or  later.  Well,  it's  a  great  place." 

Cornelia  obeyed  him  for  the  same  reason  that  she 
gave  him  her  hand,  which  was  no  reason.  "  I  heard 


170  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

your  voice  there  at  the  door,  when  you  came  in  a  little 
while  ago,  and  I  was  just  going  to  rush  out  and  speak 
to  you.  I  was  sure  it  was  you ;  but  thinks  I,  '  It  can't 
be ;  it's  too  good  to  be  true ' ;  and  I  waited  till  I  could 
see  Mrs.  Montgomery,  and  then  I  sent  up  for  you. 
Didn't  send  my  name ;  thought  I'd  like  to  surprise 
you.  Well,  how's  the  folks  ?  Mother  still  doing  busi 
ness -at  the  old  stand  ?  giving  and  well,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  My  mother  is  well,"  said  Cornelia.  She  wondered 
how  she  should  rid  herself  of  this  horrible  little  creat 
ure,  who  grew,  as  she  looked  at  him  in  her  fascination, 
more  abominable  to  her  every  moment.  She  was 
without  any  definite  purpose  in  asking,  "  How  is  Mrs. 
Dickerson  ?  " 

The  question  appeared  to  give  Mr.  Dickerson  great 
satisfaction ;  he  laughed,  throwing  back  his  head : 
"  Who,  Tweet  ?  Well,  I  thought  you'd  be  after  me 
there,  about  the  first  thing !  I  don't  blame  you ; 
don't  blame  you  a  bit.  Be  just  so  myself,  if  I  was  in 
your  place !  Perfectly  natural  you  should !  Then 
you  ain't  heard  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Cornelia,  with 
mounting  aversion.  She  edged  away  from  him,  for  in 
the  expression  of  his  agreeable  emotion  he  had  pushed 
nearer  to  her  on  the  sofa. 


THE   COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  171 

"Why,  Tweet  is  Mrs.  Byers,  now;  court  let  her 
take  back  her  maiden  name.  I  didn't  oppose  the 
divorce;  nothing  like  peace  in  families,  you  know. 
Tweet  was  all  right,  and  I  hain't  got  anything  to  say 
against  her.  She's  a  good  girl ;  but  we  couldn't  seem 
to  hit  it  off,  and  we  agreed  to  quit,  after  we'd  tried  it 
a  couple  of  years  or  so,  and  I've  been  a  free  man  ever 
since." 

It  could  not  be  honestly  said  that  Cornelia  was  pro 
foundly  revolted  by  the  facts  so  lightly,  almost  gaily, 
presented.  Her  innocence  of  so  much  that  they  im 
plied,  and  her  familiarity  with  divorce  as  a  common 
incident  of  life,  alike  protected  her  from  the  shock. 
But  what  really  struck  terror  to  her  heart  was  some 
thing  that  she  realized  with  the  look  that  the  hideous 
little  man  now  bent  upon  her  :  the  mutual  understand 
ing  ;  the  rights  once  relinquished  which  might  now  be 
urged  again  ;  the  memory  of  things  past,  were  all  sug 
gested  in  this  look.  She  thought  of  Ludlow,  with  his 
lofty  ideals  and  his  great  gifts,  and  then  she  looked  at 
this  little  grinning,  leering  wretch,  and  remembered 
how  he  had  once  put  his  arm  round  her  and  kissed  her. 
It  seemed  impossible  —  too  cruel  and  unjust  to  be.  She 
was  scarcely  more  than  a  child,  then,  and  that  foolish 
affair  had  been  more  her  mother's  folly  than  her  own. 


172  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

It  flashed  upon  her  that  unless  she  put  away  the 
shame  of  it,  the  shame  would  weaken  her  and  master 
her.  But  how  to  assert  herself  she  did  not  know  till 
he  gave  her  some  pretext. 

"  Well,"  he  sighed,  rolling  his  head  against  the  back 
of  the  sofa,  and  looking  up  at  the  chandelier,  "  some 
times  a  man  has  more  freedom  than  he's  got  any  use 
for.  I  don't  know  as  I  want  to  be  back  under  Tweet's 
thumb,  but  I  guess  the  Scripture  was  about  right 
where  it  says  it  ain't  good  for  a  man  to  be  alone. 
When  d'you  leave  Pymantoning,  Nelie  ?  " 

"  It  makes  no  difference  when  I  left."  Cornelia  got 
to  her  feet,  trembling.  "  And  I'll  thank  you  not  to 
call  me  by  my  first  name,  Mr.  Dickerson.  I  don't 
know  why  you  should  do  it,  and  I  don't  like  it." 

"  Oh,  all  right,  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Dickerson.  "  I 
don't  blame  you.  I  think  you're  perfectly  excusable 
to  feel  the  way  you  do.  But  some  time,  when  I  get 
a  chance,  I  should  like  to  tell  you  about  it,  and  put  it 
to  you  in  the  right  light  "  — 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  about  it,"  cried  Cornelia 
fiercely.  "And  I  won't  have  you  thinking  that  it's 
because  I  ever  did  care  for  you.  I  didn't.  And 
I  was  only  too  glad  when  you  got  married.  And  I 
don't  hate  you,  for  I  despise  you  too  much;  and 
I  always  did.  So !  " 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  173 

She  stamped  her  foot  for  a  final  emphasis,  but  she 
was  aware  of  her  words  all  having  fallen  effectless, 
like  hlows  dealt  some  detestable  thing  in  a  dream. 

"  Good !  Just  what  I  expected  and  deserved,"  said 
Mr.  Dickerson,  with  a  magnanimity  that  was  appalling. 
"  I  did  behave  like  a  perfect  scallawag  to  you,  Nic ; 
but  I  was  young  then,  and  Tweet  got  round  me  before 
I  knew.  I  can  explain  "  — 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  explain !  I  won't  let  you. 
You're  too  disgusting  for  anything.  Don't  I  tell  you 
I  never  cared  for  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Dickerson  tolerantly, 
"you  say  that  now;  and  I  don't  blame  you.  But 
/guess  you  did  care,  once,  Nelie." 

"  Oh,  my  goodness,  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  She  found 
herself  appealing  in  some  sort  to  the  little  wretch 
against  himself. 

"  Why,  let's  see  how  you  look ;  I  hain't  had  a  fair 
peep  at  you,  yet."  As  if  with  the  notion  of  affording 
a  relief  to  the  strain  of  the  situation,  he  advanced,  and 
lifted  his  hand  toward  the  low-burning  chandelier. 

"  Stop !  "  cried  Cornelia.  "  Are  you  staying  here  — 
in  this  house  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  inferred  that  I  was,  from  a  remark  that  I 
made." 


174  THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA. 

"  Then  I'm  going  away  instantly.  I  will  tell  Mrs. 
Montgomery,  and  I  will  go  to-night." 

"Why,  Nic!" 

"  Hush !  Don't  you  —  don't  dare  to  speak  to  me ! 
Oh,  you  —  you  "  —  She  could  not  find  a  word  that 
would  express  all  her  loathing  of  him,  and  her  scorn  of 
herself  in  the  past  for  having  given  him  the  hold  upon 
her  that  nothing  appeared  to  have  loosed.  She  was 
putting  on  a  bold  front,  and  she  meant  to  keep  her 
word,  but  if  she  left  that  house,  she  did  not  know 
where,  in  the  whole  vast  city,  she  should  go.  Of 
course  she  could  go  to  Charmian  Maybough;  but 
besides  being  afraid  to  venture  out  after  dark,  she 
knew  she  would  have  to  tell  Charmian  all  about  it ;  or 
else  make  a  mystery  of  it ;  there  was  nothing,  proba 
bly,  that  Charmian  would  have  liked  better,  but  there 
was  nothing  that  Cornelia  would  have  liked  less.  She 
wanted  to  cry ;  it  always  seems  hard  and  very  unjust 
to  us,  in  after  life,  when  some  error  or  folly  of  our 
youth  rises  up  to  perplex  us ;  and  Cornelia  was  all  the 
more  rebellious  because  the  fault  was  not  wholly  hers, 
or  not  even  largely,  but  mostly  her  dear,  innocent,  un 
wise  mother's. 

Mr.  Dickerson  dropped  his  hand  without  turning  up 
the  gas ;  perhaps  he  did  not  need  a  stronger  light  on 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  175 

Cornelia,  after  all.  "  Oh,  well !  I  don't  want  to  drive 
you  out  of  the  house.  I'll  go.  I've  got  my  grip 
out  here  in  the  hall.  But  see  here!  I  told  Mrs. 
Montgomery  we  hailed  from  the  same  place  —  children 
together,  and  I  don't  know  but  what  cousins  —  and 
how  glad  I  was  to  find  you  here,  and  now  if  I  leave  — 
Better  let  me  stay  here,  over  night,  anyhow !  I'm  off 
on  the  road  to-morrow,  anyway.  I  won't  trouble  you  ; 
I  won't,  indeed.  Now  you  can  depend  upon  it. 
Word's  as  good  as  my  bond,  if  my  bond  ain't  worth  a 
great  deal.  But,  honor  bright !  " 

Cornelia's  heart,  which  stood  still  at  the  threat  she 
made,  began  to  pound  in  her  breast.  She  panted  so 
that  she  could  hardly  speak. 

"  Will  you  call  me  by  my  first  name  ?  "  she  de 
manded. 

"  No.  You  shall  be  Miss  Saunders  to  me  till  you 
say  when." 

"  And  will  you  ever  speak  to  me,  or  look  at  me,  as  if 
we  were  ever  anything  but  the  most  perfect  strangers  ?  " 

"It'll  be  a  good  deal  of  a  discount  from  what  I 
told  Mrs.  Montgomery,  but  I  guess  I  shall  have  to 
promise." 

"  And  you  will  go  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"  Sure." 


176  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  How  soon  ?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  like  a  very  early  breakfast,  but  I 
guess  I  can  get  out  of  the  house  by  about  nine,  or 
half-past  eight,  maybe." 

"  Then  you  may  stay."  Cornelia  turned  and  marched 
out  of  the  parlor  with  a  state  that  failed  her  more  and 
more,  the  higher  she  mounted  toward  her  room.  If 
it  had  been  a  flight  further  she  would  have  had  to 
crawl  on  her  hands  and  knees. 

At  first  she  thought  she  would  not  go  down  to  din 
ner,  but  after  a  while  she  found  herself  very  hungry, 
and  she  decided  she  must  go  for  appearance  sake  at 
any  rate.  At  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  too,  she  was 
curious  to  see  whether  that  little  wretch  would  keep 
his  word. 

He  was  the  life  of  the  table.  His  jokes  made 
everybody  laugh ;  it  could  be  seen  that  he  was  a  prime 
favorite  with  the  landlady.  After  the  coffee  came  he 
played  a  great  many  tricks  with  knives  and  forks  and 
spoons,  and  coins.  He  dressed  one  of  his  hands,  all 
but  two  fingers,  with  a  napkin  which  he  made  like  the 
skirts  of  a  ballet-dancer,  and  then  made  his  fingers 
dance  a  hornpipe.  He  tried  a  skirt-danee  with  them 
later,  but  it  was  comparatively  a  failure,  for  want  of 
practice,  he  said. 


THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA.  177 

Toward  Cornelia  he  behaved  with  the  most  scrupu 
lous  deference,  even  with  delicacy,  as  if  they  had 
indeed  met  in  former  days,  but  as  if  she  were  a  person 
of  such  dignity  and  consequence  that  their  acquaint 
ance  could  only  have  been  of  the  most  formal  char 
acter.  He  did  it  so  well,  and  seemed  to  take  such  a 
pleasure  in  doing  it  that  she  blushed  for  him.  Some 
of  the  things  he  said  to  the  others  were  so  droll  that 
she  had  to  laugh  at  them.  But  he  did  not  presume 

upon  her  tolerance. 
12 


XXIII. 

THE  false  courage  that  supported  her  in  Dickerson's 
presence  left  Cornelia  when  she  went  back  to  her 
room,  and  she  did  not  sleep  that  night,  or  she  thought 
she  did  not.  She  came  down  early  for  a  cup  of  cof 
fee,  and  the  landlady  told  her  that  Mr.  Dickerson  had 
just  gone ;  he  wished  Mrs.  Montgomery  to  give  Cor 
nelia  his  respects,  and  apologize  for  his  going  away 
without  waiting  to  see  her  again.  He  had  really  ex 
pected  to  stay  over  till  Monday,  but  he  found  he  could 
save  several  days  by  taking  the  Chicago  Limited  that 
morning.  Mrs.  Montgomery  praised  his  energy ;  she 
did  not  believe  he  would  be  on  the  road  a  great  while 
longer ;  he  would  be  in  the  firm  in  less  than  another 
year.  She  hinted  at  his  past  unhappiness  in  the  mar 
ried  state,  and  she  said  she  did  hope  that  he  would 
get  somebody  who  would  appreciate  him,  next  time. 
There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  doubt  in  her  mind  that 
there  would  be  a  next  time  with  him. 

Cornelia  wanted  to  ask  whether  she  expected  him 
back  soon ;  she  could  not ;  but  she  resolved  that 


THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA.  179 

whenever  he  came  he  should  not  find  her  in  that 
house.  She  thought  where  she  should  go,  and  what 
excuse  she  should  make  for  going,  what  she  should 
tell  Charmian,  or  Mr.  Ludlow,  if  she  ever  saw  him 
again.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  better  go  home, 
but  Cornelia  hated  to  give  up  ;  she  could  not  bear  to 
be  driven  away.  She  went  to  church,  to  escape  her 
self,  and  a  turmoil  of  things  alien  to  the  place  and  the 
hour  whirled  through  her  mind  during  the  service ; 
she  came  out  spent  with  a  thousand-fold  dramatization 
of  her  relations  to  Mr.  Dickerson  and  to  Mr.  Ludlow. 
She  sat  down  on  a  bench  in  the  little  park  before  the 
church,  and  tried  to  think  what  she  ought  to  do,  while 
the  children  ran  up  and  down  the  walks,  and  the 
people  from  the  neighboring  East  Side  avenues,  in 
their  poor  Sunday  best,  swarmed  in  the  square  for  the 
mild  sun  and  air  of  the  late  October.  The  street  cars 
dinned  ceaselessly  up  and  down,  and  back  and  forth ; 
the  trains  of  the  Elevated  hurtled  by  on  the  west  and 
on  the  east;  the  troubled  city  roared  all  round  with 
the  anguish  of  the  perpetual  coming  and  going  ;  but  it 
was  as  much  Sunday  there  as  it  would  have  been  on 
the  back  street  in  Pymantoning  where  her  mother's 
little  house  stood.  The  leaves  that  dripped  down  at 
her  feet  in  the  light  warm  breaths  of  wind  passing 


180  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

over  the  square  might  have  fallen  from  the  maple  before 
the  gate  at  home.  The  awful  unity  of  life  for  the 
first  time  appeared  to  her.  Was  it  true  that  you 
could  not  get  away  from  what  you  had  been  ?  Was 
that  the  meaning  of  that  little  wretch's  coming  back 
to  claim  her  after  he  had  forfeited  every  shadow  of 
right  to  her  that  even  her  mother's  ignorance  and  folly 
had  given  him  ?  Then  it  meant  that  he  would  come 
back  again  and  again,  and  never  stop  coming.  She 
made  believe  that  if  she  looked  up,  she  should  now  see 
him  actually  coming  down  the  path  toward  her ;  she 
held  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground  at  her  feet,  and 
then  it  seemed  to  her  every  moment  that  he  was  just 
going  to  take  the  seat  next  her.  The  seat  was  al 
ready  taken ;  a  heavy  German  woman  filled  it  so 
solidly  that  no  phantasm  could  have  squeezed  in  be 
side  her.  But  the  presence  of  Dickerson  became  so 
veritable  that  Cornelia  started  up  breathless,  and  hur 
ried  home,  sick  with  the  fear  that  she  should  find  him 
waiting  for  her  there. 

She  was  afraid  to  go  out  the  next  morning,  lest  she 
should  meet  him  on  the  street,  though  she  knew  that 
by  this  time  he  was  a  thousand  miles  away. 

At  the  Synthesis  she  was  ashamed  to  let  Charmian 
think  that  her  absent  and  tremulous  mood  had  some- 


THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  181 

thing  to  do  with  Ludlow ;  but  she  was  so  much  more 
ashamed  of  the  shabby  truth  that  she  would  have  been 
willing  to  accept  the  romance  herself.  This  was  very 
dishonest ;  it  was  very  wicked  and  foolish ;  Cornelia 
saw  herself  becoming  a  guilty  accomplice  in  an  inno 
cent  illusion.  She  found  strength  to  silence  Charmian's 
surmise,  if  not  to  undeceive  her ;  she  did  her  best ; 
and  as  the  days  began  to  remove  her  farther  and  far 
ther  from  the  moment  of  her  actual  encounter  with 
Dickerson,  her  reason  came  more  and  more  into  con 
trol  of  her  conscience.  She  tried  not  to  be  the  fool  of 
a  useless  remorse  for  something  she  was  at  least  not 
mainly  to  blame  for.  She  had  to  make  the  struggle 
alone  ;  there  was  no  one  she  could  advise  with ;  her 
heart  shut  when  she  thought  of  telling  any  one  her 
trouble ;  but  in  her  perpetual  reveries  she  argued  the 
case  before  Ludlow. 

It  seemed  to  her  as  if  he  had  come  to  render  her  a 
final  judgment  when  his  name  was  sent  up  to  her 
room,  that  Saturday  afternoon  which  ended  the  longest 
week  of  her  life.  She  went  down,  and  found  him 
alone  in  the  long  parlor,  and  it  was  in  keeping  with 
her  fantastic  prepossession  that  he  should  begin,  "I 
wonder  how  I  shall  say  what  I've  come  for  ?  "  as  if  he 
would  fain  have  softened  her  sentence. 


182  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

He  kept  her  hand  a  moment  longer  than  he  need ; 
but  he  was  not  one  of  those  disgusting  people  who 
hold  your  hand  while  they  talk  to  you,  and  whom  Cor 
nelia  hated.  She  did  not  now  resent  it,  though  she 
was  sensible  of  having  to  take  her  hand  from  him. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  with  hysterical  flip 
pancy.  "  If  I  did  I  would  tell  you." 

He  laughed,  as  if  he  liked  her  flippancy,  and  he 
said,  "It's  very  simple.  In  fact,  that's  what  makes  it 
so  difficult." 

"  Then  you  might  practice  on  something  hard  first," 
she  suggested  wildly.  "  How  would  the  weather  do  ?  " 

"  Yes,  hasn't  it  been  beautiful  ?  "  said  Ludlow,  with 
an  involuntary  lapse  into  earnestness.  "  I  was  in  the 
Park  to-day  for  a  little  effect  I  wanted  to  get,  and  it 
was  heartbreaking  to  leave  the  woods.  I  was  away 
up  in  those  forest  depths  that  look  wild  in  spite  of  the 
asphalt.  If  you  haven't  been  there,  you  must  go 
some  day  while  the  autumn  color  lasts.  I  saw  a  lot 
of  your  Synthesis  ladies  painting  there.  I  didn't 
know  but  I  might  see  you." 

This  was  all  very  matter  of  fact.  Cornelia  took 
herself  in  hand,  and  shook  herself  out  of  her  halluci 
nation.  "  No,  I  don't  suppose  it  would  be  right  for  a 
person  who  was  merely  in  the  Preparatory  to  go 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  183 

sketching  in  the  Park.  And  Charmian  and  I  were 
very  good  to-day,  and  kept  working  away  at  our  block 
hands  as  long  as  the  light  lasted." 

"Ah,  yes  ;  Miss  Maybough,"  said  Ludlow;  then  he 
paused  absently  a  moment.  "  Do  you  think  she  is 
going  to  do  much  in  art  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  returned  Cornelia.  She 
thought  it  rather  odd  he  should  recur  to  that  after  she 
had  let  him  see  she  did  not  want  to  talk  about  Char- 
mian's  art. 

"Because  you  know  that  you  can  do  something 
yourself,"  said  Ludlow.  "  That  is  the  only  kind  of 
people  who  can  really  know.  The  other  sort  of  peo 
ple  can  make  clever  guesses ;  they  can't  know." 

"  And  you  believe  that  I  can  do  something  ?  "  asked 
Cornelia,  and  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  sent  the 
tears  to  her  eyes.  It  was  so  sweet  to  be  praised,  be 
lieved  in,  after  what  she  had  been  through.  "  But  you 
haven't  seen  anything  of  mine  except  those  things  — 
in  the  Fair  House." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have.  I've  seen  the  drawings  you  sub 
mitted  at  the  Synthesis.  I've  just  seen  them.  I  may 
as  well  confess  it :  I  asked  to  see  them." 

"You  did!  And  —  and  —  well?"  she  fluttered 
back. 


184  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  It  will  take  hard  work." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that !  " 

"  And  it  will  take  time." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  worst  of  it.  I  don't  see  how  I  can 
give  the  time." 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Oh,  because  —  I  can't  very  well  be  away  from 
home."  She  colored  as  she  said  this,  for  she  could 
have  been  away  from  home  well  enough  if  she  had  the 
money.  "  I  thought  I  would  come  and  try  it  for  one 
winter." 

He  said  lightly,  "  Perhaps  you'll  get  so  much  inter 
ested  that  you'll  find  you  can  take  more  time." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered. 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  get  in  all  the  work  you  can 
this  winter.  Block  hands  are  well  enough,  but  they're 
not  the  whole  of  art  nor  the  whole  preparation  for  it." 

"  Oh,  I've  joined  the  sketch  class,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  that's  well  enough,  too,"  he  assented.  "  But 
I  want  you  to  come  and  paint  with  me,"  he  suddenly 
added. 

"  You  ?     Me  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Yes,"  he  returned.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I  mean. 
I've  been  asked  to  paint  a  lady.  She'll  have  to  come 
to  my  place,  and  I  want  you  to  come  with  her,  and 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  185 

see  what  you  can  do,  too.  I  hope  it  doesn't  seem  too 
extraordinary  ?  "  he  broke  off,  at  sight  of  the  color  in 
her  face. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Cornelia.  She  wondered  what 
Charmian  would  say  if  she  knew  this ;  she  wondered 
what  the  Synthesis  would  say ;  the  Synthesis  held  Mr. 
Ludlow  in  only  less  honor  than  the  regular  Synthesis 
instructors,  and  Mr.  Ludlow  had  asked  her  to  come 
and  paint  with  him !  She  took  shelter  in  the  belief 
that  Mrs.  Burton  must  have  put  him  up  to  it,  some 
how,  but  she  ought  to  say  something  grateful,  or  at 
least  something.  She  found  herself  stupidly  and  aim 
lessly  asking,  "  Is  it  Mrs.  Westley  ?  "  as  if  that  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  matter. 

"  No ;  I  don't  see  why  I  didn't  tell  you  at  once," 
said  Ludlow.  "  It's  your  friend,  Miss  Maybough." 

Cornelia  relieved  her  nerves  with  a  laugh.  "  I  won 
der  how  she  ever  kept  from  telling  it." 

"  Perhaps  she  didn't  know.  I've  only  just  got  a  let 
ter  from  her  mother,  asking  me  to  paint  her,  and  I 
haven't  decided  yet  that  I  shall  do  it." 

She  thought  that  he  wanted  her  to  ask  him  why, 
and  she  asked,  "  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?  " 

"  For  two  reasons.  Do  you  want  the  real  reason 
first  ?  "  he  asked,  smiling  at  her. 


186  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

She  laughed.     "  No,  the  unreal  one ! " 

"  Well,  I  doubt  whether  Mrs.  Maybough  wrote  to 
me  of  her  own  inspiration,  entirely.  I  suspect  that 
Wetmore  and  Plaisdell  have  been  working  the  affair, 
and  I  don't  like  that." 

"Well?" 

"And  I'm  waiting  for  you  to  say  whether  I  could  do 
it.  That's  the  real  reason." 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  " 

"I  could  make  a  picture  of  her,"  he  said,  "but 
could  I  make  a  portrait  ?  There  is  something  in  every 
one  which  holds  the  true  likeness  ;  if  you  don't  get  at 
that,  you  don't  make  a  portrait,  and  you  don't  give 
people  their  money's  worth.  They  haven't  proposed 
to  buy  merely  a  picture  of  you ;  they've  proposed  to 
buy  a  picture  of  a  certain  person ;  you  may  give  them 
more,  but  you  can't  honestly  give  them  less ;  and  if 
you  don't  think  you  can  give  them  that,  then  you  had 
better  not  try.  I  should  like  to  try  for  Miss  May- 
bough's  likeness,  and  I'll  do  that,  at  least,  if  you'll 
try  with  me.  The  question  is  whether  you  would 
like  to." 

"  Like  to  ?  It's  the  greatest  opportunity !  Why,  I 
hope  I  know  what  a  chance  it  is,  and  I  don't  know  why 
you  ask  me  to." 


THE   COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  187 

"  I  want  to  learn  of  you." 

"  If  you  talk  that  way  I  shall  know  you  are  making 
fun  of  me." 

"  Then  I  will  talk  some  other  way.  I  mean  what 
I  say.  I  want  you  to  show  me  how  to  look  at  Miss 
Maybough.  It  sounds  fantastic  "  — 

"  It  sounds  ridiculous.  I  shall  not  do  anything  of 
the  kind." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  shall  not  paint  her." 

"  You  don't  expect  me  to  believe  that,"  said  Corne 
lia,  but  she  did  believe  it  a  little,  and  she  was  daunted. 
She  said,  "  Charmian  would  hate  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  would,"  said  Ludlow.  "  I  don't 
think  she  would  mind  being  painted  by  half-a-dozen 
people  at  once.  The  more  the  better." 

"  That  shows  you  don't  understand  her,"  Cornelia 
began. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  didn't  understand  her  ?  Now, 
you  see,  you  must.  I  should  have  overdone  that  trait 
in  her.  Of  course  there  is  something  better  than 
that." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  could  propose  my  painting  her, 
too,"  Cornelia  relented,  provisionally. 

Ludlow  was  daunted  in  his  turn  j  he  had  not  thought 
of  that.  It  would  be  a  little  embarrassing,  certainly, 


188  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

but  he  could  not  quite  own  this.  He  laughed  and 
said,  "  I  have  a  notion  she  will  propose  it  herself,  if 
you  give  her  a  chance." 

"  Oh,"  said  Cornelia,  "  if  she  does  that,  all  well  and 
good." 

"  Then  I  may  say  to  her  mother  that  I  will  make  a 
try  at  the  portrait  ?  " 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  it  ?  "  Cornelia  demanded, 
liking  and  not  liking  to  have  the  decision  seem  left  to 
her.  "  I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  it  if  she  doesn't 
do  it  of  her  own  accord." 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  she  shall  not  have  even  a 
suggestion  of  any  kind,"  said  Ludlow,  solemnly. 

"  I  shall  know  it  if  she  does,"  Cornelia  retorted,  not 
so  solemnly,  and  they  both  laughed. 

While  he  stayed  and  talked  with  her  the  affair  had 
its  reason  and  justification ;  it  seemed  very  simple  and 
natural ;  but  when  he  went  away  it  began  to  look  diffi 
cult  and  absurd.  It  was  something  else  she  would 
have  to  keep  secret,  like  that  folly  of  the  past ;  it  cast 
a  malign  light  upon  Ludlow,  and  showed  him  less  wise 
and  less  true  than  she  had  thought  him.  She  must 
take  back  her  consent ;  she  must  send  for  him,  write 
to  him,  and  do  it ;  but  she  did  not  know  how  without 
seeming  to  blame  him,  and  she  wished  to  blame  only 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  189 

herself.  She  let  the  evening  go  by,  and  she  stood  be 
fore  the  glass,  putting  up  her  hand  to  her  back  hair  to 
extract  the  first  dismantling  hairpin,  for  a  sleepless 
night,  when  a  knock  at  her  door  was  followed  by  the 
words,  "  He's  waitun'  in  the  parlor."  The  door  was 
opened  and  the  Irish  girl  put  a  card  in  her  hand. 


XXIV. 

THE  card  was  Ludlow's,  and  the  words,  "Do  see 
me,  if  you  can,  for  a  moment,"  were  scribbled  on  it. 

Cornelia  ran  down  stairs.  He  was  standing,  hat  in 
hand,  under  the  leafy  gas  chandelier  in  the  parlor,  and 
he  said  at  once,  "  I've  come  back  to  say  it  won't  do. 
You  can't  come  to  paint  Miss  Maybough  with  me.  It 
would  be  a  trick.  I  wonder  I  ever  thought  of  such  a 
thing." 

She  broke  out  in  a  joyful  laugh.  "  I  knew  you 
came  for  that." 

He  continued  to  accuse  himself,  to  explain  himself. 
He  ended,  "  You  must  have  been  despising  me !  " 

"  I  despised  myself.  But  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
to  tell  Charmian  all  about  it.  There's  no  need  to  do 
that,  now  it's  all  over." 

"  But  it  isn't  all  over  for  me,"  said  Ludlow  gloom 
ily.  "  I  went  straight  home  from  here,  and  wrote  to 
Mrs.  Maybough  that  I  would  paint  her  daughter,  and 
now  I'm  in  for  it." 

He  looked  so  acutely  miserable  that  Cornelia  gave 


THE   COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  191 

way  to  a  laugh,  which  had  the  effect  of  raising  his  fallen 
spirits,  and  making  him  laugh,  too.  They  sat  down 
together  and  began  to  talk  the  affair  all  over  again. 

Some  of  the  boarders  who  were  at  the  theatre  came 
in  before  he  rose  to  go. 

Cornelia  followed  him  out  into  the  hall.  "Then 
there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

"  No,  nothing,"  he  said,  "  unless  you  want  to  take 
the  commission  off  my  hands,  and  paint  the  picture 
alone."  He  tried  to  look  gloomy  again,  but  he  smiled. 

Every  one  slept  late  at  Mrs.  Montgomery's  on  Sun 
day  morning ;  all  sects  united  in  this  observance  of  the 
day;  in  fact  you  could  not  get  breakfast  till  nine. 
Cornelia  opened  her  door  somewhat  later  even  than 
this,  and  started  at  the  sight  of  Charmian  Maybough 
standing  there,  with  her  hand  raised  in  act  to  knock. 
They  exchanged  little  shrieks  of  alarm. 

"  Did  I  scare  you  ?  "Well,  it's  worth  it,  and  you'll 
say  so  when  you  know  what's  happened.  Go  right 
back  in  !  "  Charmian  pushed  Cornelia  back  and  shut 
the  door.  "  You  needn't  try  to  guess,  and  I  won't  ask 
you  to.  But  it's  simply  this :  Mr.  Ludlow  is  going  to 
paint  me.  What  do  you  think  of  that?  Though  I 
sha'n't  expect  you  to  say  at  once.  But  it's  so.  Mamma 
wrote  to  him  several  days  ago,  but  she  kept  the  whole 


192  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

affair  from  me  till  she  knew  he  would  do  it,  and  he 
only  sent  his  answer  last  night  after  dinner."  Char- 
mian  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  bed  with  the  effect 
of  intending  to  take  all  the  time  that  was  needed  for 
the  full  sensation.  "  And  now,  while  you're  absorb 
ing  the  great  central  fact,  I  will  ask  if  you  have  any 
idea  why  I  have  rushed  down  here  this  morning  before 
you  were  up,  or  mamma  either,  to  interview  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  said  Cornelia. 

"You  don't  happen  to  have  an  olive  or  a  cracker 
anywhere  about  ?  I  don't  need  them  for  illustration, 
but  I  haven't  had  any  breakfast,  yet." 

"There  are  some  ginger-snaps  in  the  bureau  box 
right  before  you,"  said  Cornelia  from  the  window-sill. 

"  Ginger-snaps  will  do,  in  an  extreme  case  like  this," 
said  Charmian,  and  she  left  her  place  long  enough  to 
search  the  bureau  box.  "  What  little  ones ! "  she 
sighed.  "  But  no  matter ;  I  can  eat  them  all."  She 
returned  to  her  seat  on  Cornelia's  bed  with  the  paper 
bag  which  she  had  found,  in  her  hand.  "  Well,  I  have 
thought  it  perfectly  out,  and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to 
give  your  consent;  and  if  you  knew  how  much  valua 
ble  sleep  I  had  lost,  thinking  it  out,  you  would  consent 
at  once.  You  know  that  the  sittings  will  have  to  be  at 
his  studio,  and  that  I  shall  have  to  have  somebody  go 


THKY  HAD    TEA    TOGETHER    IN    THE    RESTAURANT. 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  193 

with  me.  Cornelia  was  silent,  and  Charmian  urged, 
"  You  know  that  much,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  Cornelia  allowed. 

"  Well,  then,  you  know  I  could  have  mamma  go, 
but  it  would  bore  her ;  or  I  could  have  a  maid  go,  but 
that  would  bore  me ;  and  so  I've  decided  to  have  you 

go-" 

"Me?" 

"  Yes ;  and  don't  say  you  can't  till  you  know 
what  you're  talking  about.  It'll  take  all  your  after 
noons  for  a  week  or  a  fortnight,  and  you'll  think  you 
can't  give  the  time.  But  I'll  tell  you  how  you  can, 
and  more  too ;  how  you  can  give  the  whole  winter,  if 
it  takes  him  that  long  to  paint  me ;  but  they  say  he 
paints  very  rapidly,  and  gets  his  picture  at  a  dash,  or 
else  doesn't  get  it  at  all;  and  it's  neither  more  nor 
less  than  this :  I'm  going  to  get  him  to  let  you  paint 
me  at  the  same  time  ?  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

All  our  motives  are  mixed,  and  it  was  not  pure  con 
science  which  now  wrought  in  Cornelia.  It  was  pride, 
too,  and  a  certain  resentment  that  Charmian  should 
assume  authority  to  make  Mr.  Ludlow  do  this  or  that. 
For  an  instant  she  questioned  whether  he  had  not 
broken  faith  with  her,  and  got  Charmian  to  propose 
this ;  then  she  knew  that  it  could  not  have  been.  She 

said  coldly,  "  I  can't  do  it." 
13 


194  THE    COAST    OF1    BOHEMIA. 

"  What!  Not  when  I've  come  down  here  before 
breakfast  to  ask  you  ?  Why  can't  you  ?  "  Charmian 
wailed. 

"  Because  Mr.  Ludlow  was  here  last  night,  and 
asked  me  to  do  it." 

"He  did?  Then  I  am  the  happiest  girl  in  the 
world !  Let  me  embrace  you,  Cornelia !  " 

"Don't  be  —  disgusting!"  said  Cornelia,  but  she 
felt  that  Charmian  was  generously  glad  of  the  honor 
done  her,  and  that  she  had  wronged  her  by  suspecting 
her  of  a  wish  to  show  power  over  Mr.  Ludlow.  "  I 
told  him  I  couldn't,  and  I  can't,  because  it  would  have 
seemed  to  be  making  use  of  you,  and  —  and  —  you 
wouldn't  like  it,  and  I  wouldn't  like  it  in  your  place, 
and  —  I  wouldn't  do  it.  And  I  should  have  to  tell 
you  that  he  proposed  it,  and  that  you  would  perfectly 
hate  it." 

"  When  it  was  the  very  first  thing  I  thought  of  ? 
Let  me  embrace  you  again,  Cornelia  Saunders,  you 
adorable  wooden  image !  Why  his  proposing  it  makes 
it  perfectly  divine,  and  relieves  me  of  all  responsibility. 
Oh,  I  would  come  down  here  every  day  before  break 
fast  a  whole  week,  for  a  moment  like  this !  Then  it's 
all  settled ;  and  we  will  send  him  word  that  we  will 
begin  to-morrow  afternoon.  Let's  discuss  the  charac- 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  195 

ter  you  will  do  me  in.  I  want  you  to  paint  me  in 
character  —  both  of  you  —  something  allegorical  or 
mythical.  Or  perhaps  you're  hungry,  too !  And  I've 
eaten  every  one  of  the  snaps." 

"  No,  I  can't  do  it,"  Cornelia  still  protested ;  but 
the  reasons  why  she  could  not,  seemed  to  have  escaped 
her,  or  to  have  turned  into  mere  excuses.  In  fact, 
since  Charmian  had  proposed  it,  and  seemed  to  wish  it, 
they  were  really  no  longer  reasons.  Cornelia  alleged 
them  again  with  a  sense  of  their  fatuity.  She  did  not 
finally  assent ;  she  did  not  finally  refuse  ;  but  she  felt 
that  she  was  very  weak. 

"  I  see  what  you're  thinking  about,"  said  Charmian, 
"  but  you  needn't  be  afraid.  I  shall  not  show  anything 
out.  I  shall  be  a  perfect  —  tomb." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Cornelia,  with  a 
vexation  heightened  by  the  sense  of  her  own  insin 
cerity. 

"  Oh,  you  know  what.  But  from  this  time  forth  1 
don't.  It  will  be  glorious  not  to  let  myself  realize  it. 
I  shall  just  sit  and  think  up  conundrums,  and  not  hear, 
or  see,  or  dream  anything.  Yes,  I  can  do  it,  and  it 
will  be  splendid  practice.  This  is  the  way  I  shall 
look."  She  took  a  pose  in  Cornelia's  one  chair,  and 
put  on  an  air  of  impenetrable  mystery,  which  she  re- 


196  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

linquished  a  moment  to  explain,  "  Of  course  this  back 
is  rather  too  stiff  and  straight ;  I  shall  be  more  crouch 
ing."  She  pushed  a  ginger-snap  between  her  lips,  and 
chewed  enigmatically  upon  it.  "  See  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Charmian  Maybough,"  said  Cor 
nelia  sternly,  "if  you  ever  mention  that  again,  or 
allude  to  it  the  least  in  the  world  "  — 

"  Don't  I  say  I  won't?  "  demanded  Charmian,  jump 
ing  up.  "  That  will  be  the  whole  fun  of  it.  From 
the  very  first  moment,  till  I'm  framed  and  hung  in  a 
good  light,  I'm  going  to  be  mum,  through  and  through, 
and  if  you  don't  speak  of  him,  I  sha'n't,  except  as  a 
fellow-artist." 

"  What  a  simpleton !  "  said  Cornelia.  She  laughed 
in  spite  of  her  vexation.  "  I'm  not  obliged  to  let  what 
you  think  trouble  me." 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  Your  thinking  it  doesn't  make  it  so." 

"No"  — 

"  But  if  you  let  him  see  "  — 

"  The  whole  idea  is  not  to  let  him  see !  That's  what 
I  shall  do  it  all  for.  Good-by !  " 

She  put  the  paper  bag  down  on  the  bureau  for  the 
greater  convenience  of  embracing  Cornelia. 

"  Why  don't  you  stay  and  have  breakfast  with  me  ?  " 
Cornelia  asked.  "You'll  be  sick." 


THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  197 

"  Breakfast  ?  And  ruin  everything !  I  would  rather 
never  have  any  breakfast !  "  She  took  up  the  paper 
bag  again,  and  explored  it  with  an  eager  hand,  while 
she  stared  absently  at  Cornelia.  "Ah!  I  thought 
there  was  one  left !  What  mites  of  things."  She  put 
the  last  ginger-snap  into  her  mouth,  and  with  a  flying 
kiss  to  Cornelia  as  she  passed,  she  flashed  out  of  the 
door,  and  down  the  stairs. 


XXV. 

AFTER  all,  Ludlow  decided  that  lie  would  paint 
Charmian  in  her  own  studio,  with  the  accessories  of 
her  peculiar  pose  in  life  about  her ;  they  were  facti 
tious,  but  they  were  genuine  expressions  of  her  char 
acter  ;  he  could  not  realize  her  so  well  away  from 
there. 

The  first  afternoon  was  given  to  trying  her  in  this 
light  and  that,  and  studying  her  from  different  points. 
She  wished  to  stand  before  her  easel,  in  her  Synthesis 
working-dress,  with  her  palette  on  her  thumb,  and  a 
brush  in  her  other  hand.  He  said  finally,  "  Why 
not  ?  "  and  Cornelia  made  a  tentative  sketch  of  her. 

At  the  end  of  the  afternoon  he  waited  while  the  girl 
was  putting  on  her  hat  in  Charmian's  room,  where  she 
smiled  into  the  glass  at  Charmian's  face  over  her 
shoulder,  thinking  of  the  intense  fidelity  her  friend 
had  shown  throughout  to  her  promise  of  unconscious 
ness. 

"  Didn't  I  do  it  magnificiently  ? "  Charmian  de 
manded.  "  It  almost  killed  me  ;  but  I  meant  to  do  it 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  199 

if  it  did  kill  me ;  and  now  his  offering  to  see  you 
aboard  the  car  shows  that  he  is  determined  to  do  it,  too, 
if  it  kills  him.  I  call  it  masterly." 

"  Well,  don't  go  and  spoil  it  now,"  said  Cornelia. 
"  And  if  you're  going  to  ask  me  every  day  how  you've 
done  "  — 

"Oh,  I'm  not!  Only  the  first  day  and  the  last 
day!" 

«  Well ! " 

As  Ludlow  walked  with  Cornelia  toward  the  point 
where  she  was  to  take  her  car  down  town,  he  began, 
"  You  see,  she  is  so  dramatic,  that  if  you  tried  to  do 
her  in  any  other  way  —  that  is,  simply  —  you  would 
be  doing  her  artificially.  You  have  to  take  her  as  she 
is,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  think  Charmian  is  acting  all  the 
time,  if  that's  what  you  mean,"  said  Cornelia.  "  Or 
any  of  the  time,  even." 

Ludlow  wished  she  had  said  she  did  not  know  that 
instead  of  as,  but  he  reflected  that  ninety  Americans 
out  of  a  hundred,  lettered  or  unlettered,  would  have 
said  the  same.  "  Oh,  I  don't  at  all  mean  that  she  is, 
intentionally.  It's  because  it's  her  nature  that  I  want 
to  recognize  it.  You  think  it  is  her  nature,  don't 
you  ?  "  he  asked  deferentially. 


200  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  it  is,"  she  answered ;  it  amused  her 
to  have  him  take  such  a  serious  tone  about  Charmian. 

"  I  shall  have  to  depend  a  great  deal  on  your  judg 
ment  in  that  matter,"  he  went  on.  "  You  won't  mind 
it,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Not  if  you  won't  mind  it's  not  being  worth  any 
thing." 

"It  will  be  worth  everything !  " 

"Or  if  you  won't  care  for  my  not  giving  it,  some 
times." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"  Well,  I  shouldn't  want  to  seem  to  talk  her  over." 

"  Oh,  no !  You  don't  think  I  expected  you  to  do 
that  ?  It  was  merely  the  right  point  of  view  I  wanted 
to  get." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  object  to  that,"  said  Cornelia. 

The  car  which  she  wished  to  take  came  by,  and  he 
stopped  it  and  handed  her  aboard.  She  thought  he 
might  decide  to  come  with  her,  but  he  bowed  his  good 
night,  and  she  saw  him  walking  on  down  town  as  she 
passed  him. 

At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  Ludlow  had  failed  to  get 
his  picture  of  Charmian ;  at  the  end  of  a  month  he 
began  with  a  new  pose  and  a  fresh  theory.  That 
quality  of  hers  which  he  hoped  to  surprise  with  Corne- 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  201 

lia's  help,  and  which  was  to  give  verity  and  value  to 
his  portrait,  when  once  he  expressed  it  there,  escaped 
him  still. 

She  was  capable  of  perfect  poses,  but  they  were 
mere  flashes  of  attitude.  Then  the  antique  mystery 
lurking  in  her  face  went  out  of  it,  and  she  became  f, n 
de  siecle  and  romantic,  and  young  ladyish,  and  uninter 
esting  to  Ludlow. 

She  made  tea  every  afternoon  when  they  finished, 
and  sometimes  the  talk  they  began  with  before  they 
began  work  prolonged  itself  till  the  time  for  the  tea 
had  come.  On  the  days  when  Mr.  Plaisdell  dropped 
in  for  a  cup,  the  talk  took  such  a  range  that  the  early 
dark  fell  before  it  ended,  and  then  Cornelia  had  to 
stay  for  dinner  and  to  be  sent  home  in  Mrs.  May- 
bough's  coupe. 

She  had  never  supposed  there  was  anything  like  it 
in  all  the  world.  Money,  and,  in  a  certain  measure, 
the  things  that  money  could  buy,  were  imaginable  in 
Pymantoning;  but  joys  so  fine,  so  simple  as  these, 
were  what  she  could  not  have  forecast  from  any  ground 
of  experience  or  knowledge.  She  tried  to  give  her 
mother  a  notion  of  what  they  said  and  did ;  but  she 
told  her  frankly  she  never  could  understand.  Mrs. 
Saunders,  in  fact,  could  not  see  why  it  was  so  exciting; 


202  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

she  read  Cornelia's  letters  to  Mrs.  Burton,  who  said 
she  could  see,  and  she  told  Mrs.  Saunders  that  she 
would  like  it  as  much  as  Cornelia  did,  if  she  were  in 
her  place ;  that  she  was  a  kind  of  Bohemian  herself. 

She  tried  to  explain  what  Bohemian  meant,  and 
what  Bohemia  was ;  but  this  is  what  no  one  can  quite 
do.  Charmian  herself,  who  aimed  to  be  a  perfect  Bo 
hemian,  was  uncertain  of  the  ways  and  means  of  oper 
ating  the  Bohemian  life,  when  she  had  apparently 
thrown  off  all  the  restrictions,  for  the  afternoon,  at 
least,  that  prevented  its  realization.  She  had  a  fault 
less  setting  for  it.  There  never  was  a  girl's  studio  that 
was  more  like  a  man's  studio,  an  actual  studio.  Mr. 
Ludlow  himself  praised  it ;  he  said  he  felt  at  home  in 
it,  and  he  liked  it  because  it  was  not  carried  a  bit  too 
far.  Charmian's  mother  had  left  her  free  to  do  what 
she  wished,  and  there  was  not  a  convention  of  Philis 
tine  housekeeping  in  the  arrangement  of  the  place. 
Everything  was  in  the  admired  disorder  of  an  artist's 
environment ;  but  Mrs.  Maybough  insisted  upon  neat 
ness.  Even  here  Charmian  had  to  submit  to  a  compro 
mise.  She  might  and  did  keep  things  strewn  all  about 
in  her  studio,  but  every  morning  the  housemaid  was 
sent  in  to  sweep  it  and  dust  it.  She  was  a  housemaid 
of  great  intelligence,  and  an  imperfect  sense  of  humor, 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  203 

and  she  obeyed  with  unsmiling  scrupulosity  the  instruc 
tions  she  had  to  leave  everything  in  Miss  Charmian's 
studio  exactly  as  she  found  it,  but  to  leave  it  clean. 
In  consequence,  this  home  of  art  had  an  effect  of  inde 
scribable  coldness  and  bareness,  and  there  were  at  first 
some  tempestuous  scenes  which  Cornelia  witnessed  be 
tween  Charmian  and  her  mother,  when  the  girl  vainly 
protested : 

"  But  don't  you  see,  mamma,  that  if  you  have  it 
regularly  dusted,  it  never  can  have  any  sentiment,  any 
atmosphere  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  call  dust  atmosphere,  my 
dear,"  said  her  step-mother.  "  If  I  left  your  studio 
looking  as  you  want  it,  and  there  should  be  a  fire, 
what  would  people  think  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  there  should  happen  to  be  anybody  from 
Wilbraham,  Mass.,"  Charmian  retorted,  "  they  might 
criticise,  but  I  don't  think  the  New  York  Fire  Depart 
ment  would  notice  whether  the  place  had  been  dusted 
or  not.  But,  go  on,  mamma !  Some  day  I  shall  have 
a  studio  out  of  the  house  —  Cornelia  and  I  are  going 
to  have  one  —  and  then  I  guess  you  won't  have  it 
dusted ! " 

"  I'm  sure  Miss  Saunders  wouldn't  let  it  get  dusty," 
said  Mrs.  Maybough,  and  then,  in  self-defence,  Char- 


204  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

inian  gave  Cornelia  the  worst  character  for  housekeep 
ing  that  she  could  invent  from  her  knowledge  of  Cor 
nelia's  room. 

She  begged  her  pardon  afterwards,  but  she  said  she 
had  to  do  it,  and  she  took  what  comfort  she  could  in 
slamming  everything  round,  as  she  called  it,  in  her 
studio,  when  she  went  with  Cornelia  to  have  her  coffee 
there.  The  maid  restored  it  to  its  conscious  pictur- 
esqueness  the  next  day. 

Charmian  was  troubled  to  decide  what  was  truly 
Bohemian  to  eat,  when  they  became  hungry  over  their 
work.  She  provided  candy  and  chocolate  in  all  their 
forms  and  phases,  but  all  girls  ate  candy  and  chocolate, 
and  they  were  so  missish,  and  so  indistinctive,  and 
they  both  went  so  badly  with  tea,  which  she  must  have 
because  of  the  weird  effect  of  the  spirit-lamp  under 
the  kettle,  that  she  disused  them  after  the  first  week. 
There  remained  always  crackers,  which  went  with 
anything,  but  the  question  was  what  to  have  with 
them.  Their  natural  association  with  cheese  was 
rejected  because  Charmian  said  she  should  be  ashamed 
to  offer  Mr.  Ludlow  those  insipid  little  Neufchatel 
things,  which  were  made  in  New  Jersey,  anyway,  and 
the  Gruyere  smelt  so,  and  so  did  Comembert;  and 
pine-apple  cheese  was  Philistine.  There  was  nothing 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  205 

for  it  but  olives,  and  though  olives  had  no  savor  of 
originality,  the  little  crescent  ones  were  picturesque, 
and  if  you  picked  them  out  of  the  bottle  with  the  end 
of  a  brush-handle,  sharpened  to  a  point,  and  the  other 
person  received  them  with  their  thumb  and  finger,  the 
whole  act  was  indisputably  Bohemian. 

There  was  one  day  when  they  all  got  on  particularly 
well,  and  Charmian  boldly  ordered  some  champagne 
for  a  burst.  The  man  brought  back  Apollinaris 
water,  and  she  was  afraid  to  ask  why,  for  fear  he 
should  say  Mrs.  Maybough  sent  it.  Ludlow  said  he 
never  took  champagne,  and  was  awfully  glad  of  the 
Apollinaris,  and  so  the  change  was  a  great  success,  for 
neither  Charmian  nor  Cornelia  counted,  in  any  case ; 
they  both  hated  every  kind  of  wine. 

Another  time,  Cornelia,  when  she  came,  found 
Charmian  lighting  one  of  the  cigars  kept  for  show  on 
her  mantel.  She  laughed  wildly  at  Cornelia's  dismay, 
and  the  smoke,  which  had  been  going  up  her  nose, 
went  down  her  throat  in  a  volume,  and  Cornelia  had 
to  run  and  catch  her ;  she  was  reaching  out  in  every 
direction  for  help. 

Cornelia  led  her  to  the  couch,  which  was  still  wait 
ing  its  rugs  to  become  a  bed,  and  she  lay  down  there, 
very  pale  and  still,  and  was  silent  a  long  time,  till 


206  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

Cornelia  said,  "  Now,  if  I  could  find  a  mouse  some 
where  to  run  over  you,"  and  they  both  burst  into  a 
shriek  of  laughter. 

"But  I'm  going  to  learn"  Charmian  declared. 
"  Where  did  that  cigar  go  ?  "  She  sprang  up  to  look 
for  it,  but  they  never  could  find  it,  and  they  decided 
it  must  have  gone  into  the  fire,  and  been  burnt  up ; 
that  particular  cigar  seemed  essential  to  the  experi 
ment,  or  at  least  Charmian  did  not  try  another. 

They  were  both  very  grave  after  Ludlow  came. 
When  he  went  away,  he  said,  with  an  absent  look  at 
Charmian,  "  You  have  a  magnificent  pallor  to-day, 
Miss  Maybough,  and  I  must  compliment  you  on  keep 
ing  much  quieter  than  usual." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Charmian,  gravely,  and  as 
soon  as  the  door  closed  upon  him  she  flung  herself  into 
Cornelia's  arms,  and  they  stifled  their  laughter  in  each 
other's  necks.  It  seemed  to  them  that  nothing  so 
wildly  funny  had  ever  happened  before  ;  they  remained 
a  long  while  quaking  over  the  question  whether  there 
was  smell  of  smoke  enough  in  the  room  to  have  made 
him  suspect  anything,  and  whether  his  congratulations 
were  not  ironical.  Charmian  said  that  her  mistake 
was  in  not  beginning  with  a  cigarette  instead  of  a  cigar ; 
she  said  she  was  ready  to  begin  with  a  cigarette  then, 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  207 

and  she  dared  Cornelia  to  try  one,  too.  Cornelia 
refused  the  challenge,  and  then  she  said,  well,  she 
would  do  it  herself,  some  day. 

There  was  a  moment  when  it  seemed  to  her  that  the 
Bohemian  ideal  could  be  realized  to  a  wild  excess  in 
pop-corn.  She  bought  a  popper  and  three  ears  of 
corn,  and  brought  them  home  tied  up  in  paper,  and 
fastened  to  some  canvases  she  got  for  Cornelia.  She 
insisted  that  it  was  part  of  the  bargain  that  she  should 
supply  Cornelia's  canvases.  But  the  process  of  pop 
ping  made  them  all  very  red  in  the  face ;  they  had  to 
take  it  by  turns,  for  she  would  not  let  Ludlow  hold  the 
popper  the  whole  time.  They  had  a  snowy  heap  of 
corn  at  last,  which  she  put  on  the  hearth  before 
them  in  the  hollow  of  a  Japanese  shield,  detached 
from  a  suit  of  armor,  for  that  use.  They  sat  on  the 
hearth  to  eat  it,  and  they  told  ghost-stories  and  talked 
of  the  most  psychological  things  they  could  think  of. 
In  all  this  Charmian  put  Cornelia  forward  as  much  as 
she  dared,  and  kept  herself  in  a  sort  of  impassioned 
abeyance.  If  Cornelia  had  been  the  most  jealous  and 
exacting  of  principals  she  could  not  have  received  from 
her  second  a  more  single  and  devoted  allegiance.  Char- 
mian's  joy  in  her  fortunately  mounted  in  proportion  to 
the  devotion  she  paid  her,  rather  than  Cornelia's  grati- 


208  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

tude  for  it.  She  did  not  like  to  talk  of  herself,  and 
these  seances  were  nothing  if  not  strictly  personal ; 
but  Charmian  talked  for  her,  and  represented  her  in 
phases  of  interest  which  Cornelia  repudiated  with  a 
laugh,  or  denied  outright,  without  scruple,  when  the 
invention  was  too  bold.  Charmian  contrived  that  she 
should  acquire  the  greater  merit,  from  her  refusals  of 
it,  and  went  on  to  fresh  self-sacrifices  in  her  behalf. 

Sometimes  she  started  the  things  they  talked  of ;  not 
because  she  ever  seemed  to  have  been  thinking  of 
them,  or  of  anything,  definitely,  but  because  she  was 
always  apparently  letting  her  mind  wander  about  in 
space,  and  chanced  upon  them  there.  Mostly,  how 
ever,  the  suggestions  came  from  Ludlow.  He  talked 
of  art,  its  methods,  its  principles,  its  duties  to  the  age, 
the  people,  the  civilization;  the  large  moral  uses, 
which  kindled  Charmian's  fancy,  and  made  Cornelia 
laugh  when  Charmian  proposed  a  scheme  for  the  relief 
and  refinement  of  the  poor  on  the  East  Side,  by  fres 
coing  the  outsides  of  the  tenement  houses  in  Mott 
Street  and  Mulberry  Bend,  with  subjects  recalling  the 
home  life  of  the  dwellers  there :  rice-fields  and  tea- 
plantatione  for  the  Chinese,  and  views  of  Etna  and  Ve 
suvius  and  their  native  shores  for  the  Sicilians  and 
Neapolitans,  with  perhaps  religious  histories. 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  209 

Ludlow  had  to  explain  that  he  had  not  meant  the 
employment  of  any  such  direct  and  obvious  means,  but 
the  gradual  growth  of  a  conscience  in  art.  Cornelia 
thought  him  vague,  but  it  seemed  clear  to  Charmian. 
She  said,  "  Oh,  yes ;  that,'"  and  she  made  tea,  and  had 
him  set  fire  to  some  pieces  of  Southern  lightwood  on 
her  hearth,  for  the  sake  of  the  murky  fumes  and  the 
wreaths  of  dusky  crimson  flame,  which  she  said  it  was 
so  weird  to  sit  by. 

In  all  matters  of  artistic  theory  and  practice  she  set 
Cornelia  the  example  of  grovelling  at  the  master's 
feet,  as  if  there  could  be  no  question  of  anything  else ; 
but  in  other  things  Cornelia  sometimes  asserted  herself 
against  this  slavish  submission  with  a  kind  of  violence 
little  short  of  impertinence.  After  these  moral  parox 
ysms,  in  which  she  disputed  the  most  obviously  right 
and  reasonable  things,  she  was  always  humiliated  and 
cast  down  before  his  sincerity  in  trying  to  find  a  mean 
ing  in  her  difference  from  him,  as  if  he  could  not  imag 
ine  the  nervous  impulse  that  carried  her  beyond  the 
bounds  of  truth,  and  must  accuse  himself  of  error. 
When  this  happened  she  would  not  let  Charmian  take 
her  to  task  for  her  behavior ;  she  would  not  own  that 
she  was  wrong ;  she  put  the  blame  on  him,  and  found 

him  arrogant  and  patronizing.     She  had  always  known 
14 


210  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

he  was  that  kind  of  person,  and  she  did  not  mean  to 
be  treated  like  a  child  in  everything,  even  if  he  was  a 
genius. 

By  this  time  they  were  far  away  from  that  point  in 
Charmian's  romance  where  the  faithful  friend  of  the 
heroine  remains  forever  constant  to  her  vow  not  to 
speak  to  the  heroine  of  the  hero's  passion  for  her,  and 
in  fact  rather  finds  it  a  duty  to  break  her  vow,  and  en 
joys  being  snubbed  for  it.  As  the  transaction  of  the 
whole  affair  took  place  in  Charmian's  fancy,  Cornelia 
had  been  obliged  to  indulge  her  in  it,  with  the  under 
standing  that  she  should  not  let  it  interfere  with  their 
work,  or  try  to  involve  her  visibly  or  palpably  in  it. 

With  all  their  idling  they  had  days  when  they 
worked  intensely,  and  Ludlow  was  as  severe  with  Cor 
nelia's  work  as  he  was  with  his  own.  He  made  her 
rub  out  and  paint  out,  and  he  drew  ruthless  modifica 
tions  of  her  work  all  over  it,  like  the  cruelest  of  the 
Synthesis  masters.  He  made  her  paint  out  every  day 
the  work  of  the  day  before,  as  they  did  in  the  Synthe 
sis  ;  though  sometimes  he  paused  over  it  in  a  sort  of 
puzzle.  Once  he  said,  holding  her  sketch  into  the 
light  he  wanted,  at  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  "  If  I 
didn't  know  you  had  done  that  to-day,  I  should  say  it 
was  the  one  you  had  done  yesterday." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  211 

Toward  the  end  of  the  month  he  recurred  to  this 
notion  again.  "  Suppose,"  he  said,  "  we  keep  this,  and 
you  do  another  to-morrow." 

The  next  day  he  said,  in  the  same  perplexity,  "  Well, 
keep  this,  and  do  another." 

After  a  week  he  took  all  her  canvases,  and  set 
them  one  back  of  another,  but  so  that  he  could  see 
each  in  nearly  the  same  light.  He  stood  looking  at 
them  silently,  with  the  two  girls  behind  him,  one  at 
either  shoulder. 

"It's  as  lovely  as  standing  between  two  mirrors," 
Charmian  suggested  dreamily. 

"Pretty  much  of  a  sameness,"  Cornelia  remarked. 

"Mm,"  Ludlow  made  in  his  throat.  He  glanced 
over  the  shoulder  next  her,  and  asked,  as  if  Charmian 
were  not  there,  "  What  makes  you  do  her  always 
alike  ?  " 

"  Because  she  is  always  alike." 

"  Then  I've  seen  her  wrong,"  said  Ludlow,  and  he 
stared  at  Charmian  as  if  she  were  a  lay-figure.  She 
bore  his  scrutiny  as  impassively  as  a  lay-figure  could. 

He  turned  again  to  Cornelia's  sketches,  and  said 
gloomily,  "  I  should  like  to  have  Wetmore  see  these." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Cornelia. 

Charmian  came   to   life  with  another  "  Oh !  "  and 


212  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

then  she  demanded.  "  When  ?  We  must  have  some 
thing  besides  tea  for  Mr.  Wetmore." 

"  I  think  I'll  ask  him  to  step  round  in  the  morning," 
said  Ludlow,  with  authority. 

Charmian  said  "  Oh !  "  again,  but  submitted  with  the 
eagerness  of  a  disciple ;  all  phases  of  the  art-life  were 
equally  precious,  and  even  a  snub  from  such  a  master 
must  be  willingly  accepted. 

He  went  away  and  would  not  have  any  tea ;  he  had 
an  air  of  trouble  —  almost  of  offence.  "  Isn't  he 
grand,  gloomy  and  peculiar  ? "  Charmian  said.  "  I 
wonder  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

She  turned  to  Ludlow's  picture  which  he  had  left 
standing  on  the  chair  where  he  painted  at  it  in  disdain 
of  an  easel,  and  silently  compared  it  with  Cornelia's 
sketches.  Then  she  looked  at  Cornelia  and  gave  a 
dramatic  start. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Cornelia.  She  came 
up  and  began  to  look  at  the  picture,  too. 

Charmian  demanded,  "  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  see  anything,"  said  Cornelia,  but  as 
she  looked  something  became  apparent  which  she 
could  not  deny.  She  blushed  violently  and  turned 
upon  Charmian.  "You  ought  to  be  ashamed,"  she 
began,  and  she  tried  to  take  hold  of  her ;  she  did  not 
know  why. 


THE   COAST    OP   BOHEMIA.  213 

Charmian  escaped,  and  fled  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room  with  a  wild  laugh,  and  stood  there.  Cornelia 
dropped  into  the  chair  before  the  picture,  with  her 
head  fallen  on  her  elbow.  She  seemed  to  be  laughing, 
too,  and  Charmian  went  on : 

"What  is  there  to  be  ashamed  of?  I  think  it's 
glorious.  It's  one  of  the  most  romantic  things  I  ever 
heard  of.  He  simply  couldn't  help  it,  and  it  proves 
everything  I've  said.  Of  course  that  was  the  reason 
he  couldn't  see  me  all  along.  Why,  if  such  a  thing 
had  happened  to  me,  I  should  go  round  shouting  it 
from  the  house-tops.  I  don't  suppose  he  knew  what 
he  was  doing,  or  else  he  didn't  care  ;  perfectly  desper 
ate.  What/wn/" 

Cornelia  kept  laughing,  but  Charmian  stopped  and 
waited  a  moment  and  listened.  "  Why,  Cornelia !  " 
she  said  remorsefully,  entreatingly,  but  she  remained 
the  length  of  the  room  away.  Then  she  approached 
tentatively,  and  when  Cornelia  suddenly  ceased  to 
laugh  she  put  her  hand  on  her  head,  and  tenderly  lifted 
her  face.  It  was  dabbled  with  tears.  "Cornelia!" 
she  said  again. 

Cornelia  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  fierceness  that 
sent  her  flying  some  yards  away.  "  Charmian  May- 
bough  !  Will  you  ever  speak  of  this  to  any  living 
soul ?  " 


214  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  No,  no !     Indeed  I  won't "  —  Charmian  began. 

"  Will  you  ever  think  of  it !  " 

«No"  — 

"Because  I  don't  choose  to  have  you  think  I  am 
such  a  fool  as  to  —  to  "  — 

"No,  indeed,  I  don't." 

"  Because  there  isn't  anything  of  it,  and  it  wouldn't 
mean  anything,  if  there  were." 

"  No,"  said  Charmian.  "  The  only  thiug  is  to  tear 
him  out  of  your  heart ;  and  I  will  help  you !  "  She 
made  as  if  she  were  ready  to  begin  then,  and  Cornelia 
broke  into  a  genuine  laugh. 

"  Don't  be  ridiculous.  I  guess  there  isn't  much  to 
tear." 

"  Then  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Nothing !  "What  can  I !  There  isn't  anything  to 
do  anything  about.  If  it's  there,  he  knows  it,  and 
he's  left  it  there  because  he  didn't  care  what  we 
thought.  He  was  just  trying  something.  He's  always 
treated  me  like  a  perfect  —  child.  That's  all  there  is 
of  it,  and  you  know  it." 

"Yes,"  Charmian  meekly  assented.  Then  she 
plucked  up  a  spirit  in  Cornelia's  behalf.  "  The  only 
thing  is  to  keep  going  on  the  same  as  ever,  and  show 
him  we  haven't  seen  anything,  and  don't  care  if  we 
have." 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  215 

"  No,"  said  Cornelia  sadly,  "  I  shall  not  come  any 
more.  Or,  if  I  do,  it  will  just  be  to  —  I'm  not  cer 
tain  yet  what  I  shall  do."  She  provisionally  dried  her 
eyes  and  repaired  her  looks  at  the  little  mirror  which 
hung  at  one  side  of  the  mantel,  and  then  came  back  to 
Charmian  who  stood  looking  at  Cornelia's  sketches, 
still  in  the  order  Ludlow  had  left  them  in.  She  stole 
her  arm  round  Cornelia's  waist.  "  Well,  anyway,  he 
can't  say  you've  returned  the  compliment.  They're 
perfectly  magnificent,  every  one ;  and  they're  all  me, 
Now  we  can  both  live  for  art.'* 


XXVI. 

WETMORE  came  the  next  morning  with  Ludlow, 
and  looked  at  Cornelia's  studies.  "  Well,  there's  no 
doubt  about  her  talent.  I  wonder  why  it  was  wasted 
on  one  of  her  sex !  These  gifted  girls,  poor  things, 
there  don't  seem  to  be  any  real  call  for  them."  He 
turned  from  the  sketches  a  moment  to  the  arrangement 
of  Charmian's  studio.  "  I  suppose  this  is  the  other  girl's 
expression."  He  looked  more  closely  at  the  keeping 
of  the  room,  and  said,  with  a  smile  of  mixed  compas 
sion  and  amusement,  "  Why,  this  girl  seems  to  be 
trying  to  do  the  Bohemian  act !  " 

"  That  is  her  pose,"  Ludlow  admitted. 

"  And  does  she  get  a  great  deal  of  satisfaction  out 
of  it?" 

"The  usual  amount  I  fancy."  Ludlow  began  to 
tell  of  some  of  Charmian's  attempts  to  realize  her  ideal. 

Wetmore  listened  with  a  pitying  smile.  "  Poor 
thing!  It  isn't  much  like  the  genuine  thing,  as  we 
used  to  see  it  in  Paris,  is  it  ?  We  Americans  are  too 
innocent  in  our  traditions  and  experiences ;  our  Bohe- 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  217 

mia  is  a  non-alcoholic,  unfermented  condition.  When 
it  is  diluted  down  to  the  apprehension  of  an  American 
girl  it's  no  better,  or  no  worse,  than  a  kind  of  Arcadia. 
Miss  Maybough  ought  to  go  round  with  a  shepherd 
ess's  crook  and  a  straw  hat  with  daisies  in  it.  That's 
what  she  wants  to  do,  if  she  knew  it.  Is  that  a  prac 
ticable  pipe  ?  I  suppose  those  cigarettes  are  chocolates 
in  disguise.  Well !  "  He  reverted  to  Cornelia's  can 
vases.  "  Why,  of  course  they're  good.  She's  doomed. 
She  will  have  to  exhibit.  You  couldn't  do  less,  Lud- 
low,  than  have  her  carry  this  one  a  little  farther  "  — 
he  picked  out  one  of  the  canvases  and  set  it  apart  — 
"  and  offer  it  to  the  Academy." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  '  asked  Ludlow,  looking 
at  it  gravely. 

"  I  don't  know.  With  the  friends  you've  got  on  the 
Committee  —  But  you  don't  suppose  I  came  up  here  to 
see  these  things  alone,  did  you  ?  Where's  your  pic 
ture?" 

"I  haven't  any,"  said  Ludlow. 

"  Oh,  rubbish !  Where's  your  theory  of  a  picture, 
then  ?  I  don't  care  what  you  call  it.  My  only  anx 
iety,  when  you  got  a  plain,  simple,  every-day  conun 
drum  like  Miss  Maybough  to  paint,  was  that  you 
would  try  to  paint  the  answer  instead  of  the  conun- 


218  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

drum,  and  I  dare  say  that's  the  trouble.  You've  been 
trying  to  give  something  more  of  her  character  than 
you  found  in  her  face ;  is  that  it  ?  Well,  you  deserved 
to  fail,  then.  You've  been  trying  to  interpret  her ;  to 
come  the  prophet!  I  don't  condemn  the  poetry  in 
your  nature,  Ludlow,"  Wetmore  went  on,  "and  if  I 
could  manage  it  for  you,  I  think  I  could  keep  it  from 
doing  mischief.  That  is  why  I  am  so  plain-spoken 
with  you." 

"  Do  you  call  it  plain-speaking  ?  "  Ludlow  said,  put 
ting  his  picture  where  it  could  be  seen  best.  "  I  was 
going  to  accuse  you  of  flattery." 

"  Well,  you  had  better  ponder  the  weighty  truths  I 
have  let  fall.  I  don't  go  round  dropping  them  on 
everybody's  toes." 

"  Probably  there  are  not  enough  of  them,"  Ludlow 
suggested. 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  are."  Wetmore  waited  till  Ludlow 
should  say  he  was  ready  to  have  him  look  at  his  pic 
ture.  "  The  fact  is,  I've  been  giving  a  good  deal  of 
attention  to  your  case,  lately.  You're  not  simple 
enough,  and  you've  had  the  wrong  training.  You 
would  naturally  like  to  paint  the  literature  of  a  thing, 
and  let  it  go  at  that.  But  you've  studied  in  France, 
where  they  know  better,  and  you  can't  bring  yourself 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  219 

to  do  it.  Your  nature  and  your  school  are  at  odds. 
You  ought  to  have  studied  in  England.  They  don't 
know  how  to  paint  there,  but  they've  brought  fiction 
in  color  to  the  highest  point,  and  they're  not  ashamed 
of  it." 

"  Perhaps  you've  been  theorizing,  too,"  said  Ludlow, 
stepping  aside  from  his  picture. 

"  Not  on  canvas,"  Wetmore  returned.  He  put  him 
self  in  the  place  Ludlow  had  just  left.  "  Hello !  "  he 
began,  but  after  a  glance  at  Ludlow  he  went  on,  with 
the  effect  of  having  checked  himself,  to  speak  care 
fully  and  guardedly  of  the  work  in  detail.  His  spe 
cific  criticism  was  as  gentle  and  diffident  as  his  general 
censure  of  Ludlow  was  blunt  and  outright.  It  was 
given  mostly  in  questions,  and  in  recognitions  of  inten 
tion. 

"  Well,  the  sum  of  it  is,"  said  Ludlow  at  last,  "  you 
see  it's  a  failure." 

Wetmore  shrugged,  as  if  this  were  something  Lud 
low  ought  not  to  have  asked.  He  went  back  to  Cor 
nelia's  sketches,  and  looked  at  them  one  after  another. 
"  That  girl  knows  what  she's  about,  or  what  she  wants 
to  do,  and  she  goes  for  it  every  time.  She  has  got 
talent.  Whether  she's  got  enough  to  stand  the  train 
ing!  That's  the  great  difference,  after  all.  Lots  of 


220  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

people  have  talent ;  that's  the  gift.  The  question  is 
whether  one  has  it  in  paying  quantity,  or  enough  of  it 
to  amount  to  anything  after  the  digging  and  refining. 
I  should  say  that  girl  had,  but  very  likely  I  might  be 
mistaken." 

Ludlow  joined  in  the  examination  of  the  sketches. 
He  put  his  hand  on  the  weak  points  as  well  as  on  the 
strong  ones ;  he  enjoyed  with  Wetmore  the  places 
where  her  artlessness  had  frankly  offered  itself  instead 
of  her  art.  There  was  something  ingenuous  and  hon 
est  in  it  all  that  made  it  all  charming. 

"  Yes,  I  think  she  can  do  it,"  said  Wetmore,  "  if  she 
wants  to  bad  enough,  or  if  she  doesn't  want  to  get 
married  worse." 

Ludlow  winced.  "Isn't  there  something  a  little 
vulgar  in  that  notion  of  ours  that  a  woman  always 
wishes  first  and  most  of  all  to  get  married  ?  " 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  Wetmore,  with  an  affectionate 
hand  on  Ludlow's  shoulder,  "  I  never  denied  being 
vulgar." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say.     But  I  was  thinking  of  myself." 

Ludlow  sent  word  to  Charmian  at  the  Synthesis 
that  he  should  not  ask  her  to  sit  to  him  that  afternoon, 
and  in  the  evening  he  went  to  see  Wetmore.  It  was 
eleven  o'clock,  and  he  would  have  been  welcome  at 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  221 

Wetmore's  any  time  between  that  hour  of  the  night 
and  two  of  the  morning.  He  found  a  number  of  peo 
ple.  Mrs.  Westley  was  there  with  Mrs.  Rangeley; 
they  had  been  at  a  concert  together.  Mrs.  Wetmore 
had  just  made  a  Welsh  rabbit,  and  they  were  all  talk 
ing  of  the  real  meaning  of  the  word  "  beautiful." 

"  /  think,"  Mrs.  Rangeley  was  saying,  "  that  the 
beautiful  is  whatever  pleases  or  fascinates.  There  are 
lots  of  good-looking  people  who  are  not  beautiful  at 
all,  because  they  have  no  atmosphere :  and  you  see 
other  people,  who  are  irregular,  and  quite  plain  even, 
and  yet  you  come  away  feeling  that  they  are  perfectly 
beautiful."  Mrs.  Rangeley's  own  beauty  was  a  little 
irregular.  She  looked  anxiously  round,  and  caught 
Wetmore  in  a  smile.  "  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?  " 
she  demanded  in  rueful  deprecation. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing !  "  he  said.  "  I  was  thinking 
how  convincing  you  were !  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind !  "  said  one  of  the  men,  who 
had  been  listening  patiently  till  she  fully  committed 
herself.  "  There  couldn't  be  a  more  fallacious  notion 
of  the  meaning  of  beauty.  The  thing  exists  in  itself, 
independently  of  our  pleasure  or  displeasure ;  they 
have  almost  nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  you  mix  it  with 
them  you  are  lost,  as  far  as  a  true  conception  of  it 


222  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

goes.  Beauty  is  something  as  absolute  as  truth,  and 
whatever  varies  from  it,  as  r't  was  ascertained,  we'll  say, 
by  the  Greek  sculptors  and  the  Italian  painters,  is  un- 
beautiful,  just  as  anything  that  varies  from  the  truth  is 
untrue.  Charm,  fascination,  atmosphere,  are  purely 
subjective ;  one  feels  them  and  another  doesn't.  But 
beauty  is  objective,  and  nobody  can  deny  it  who  sees 
it,  whether  he  likes  it  or  not.  You  can't  get  away 
from  it,  any  more  than  you  can  get  away  from  the 
truth.  There  it  is !  " 

"Where?"  asked  "Wetmore.  He  looked  at  the 
ladies  as  if  he  thought  one  of  them  had  been  indicated. 

"  How  delightful  to  have  one's  ideas  jumped  on  just 
as  if  they  were  a  man's !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Rangeley.  Her 
opponent  laughed  a  generous  delight,  as  if  he  liked 
nothing  better  than  having  his  reasoning  brought  to 
naught.  He  entered  joyously  into  the  tumult  which  the 
utterance  of  the  different  opinions,  prejudices  and 
prepossessions  of  the  company  became. 

Ludlow  escaped  from  it,  and  made  his  way  to  Mrs. 
Westley,  in  that  remoter  and  quieter  corner,  which  she 
seemed  to  find  everywhere  when  you  saw  her  out  of 
her  own  house ;  there  she  was  necessarily  prominent. 

"  I  think  Mr.  Agnew  is  right,  and  Mrs.  Rangeley  is 
altogether  wrong,"  she  said.  "  There  couldn't  be  a 


THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  223 

better  illustration  of  it  than  in  those  two  young  art- 
student  friends  of  yours.  Miss  Saunders  is  beautiful 
in  just  that  absolute  way  Mr.  Agnew  speaks  of ;  you 
simply  can't  refuse  to  see  it ;  and  Miss  Maybough  is 
fascinating,  if  you  feel  her  so.  I  should  think  you'd 
find  her  very  difficult  to  paint,  and  with  Miss  Saunders 
there,  all  the  time,  I  should  be  afraid  of  getting  her 
decided  qualities  into  my  picture." 

Ludlow  said,  "  Ah,  that's  very  interesting." 

He  meant  to  outstay  the  rest,  for  he  wished  to  speak 
with  Wetmore  alone,  and  it  seemed  as  though  those 
people  would  never  go.  They  went  at  last.  Mrs. 
Wetmore  herself  went  off  to  the  domestic  quarter  of 
the  apartment,  and  left  the  two  men  together. 

"  'Baccy  ?  "  asked  Wetmore,  with  a  hospitable  ges- 
ure  toward  the  pipes  on  his  mantel. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Ludlow. 

"Well?" 

"  Wetmore,  what  was  it  you  saw  in  my  picture  to 
day,  when  you  began  with  that  '  Hello '  of  yours,  and 
then  broke  off  to  say  something  else  ?  " 

"Did  I  do  that?  Well,  if  you  really  wish  to 
know  "  — 

"I  do!" 

"I'll  tell  you.     I  was  going  to  ask  you  which  of 


224  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

those  two  girls  you  had  painted  it  from.  The  topog 
raphy  was  the  topography  of  Miss  Maybough,  but  the 
landscape  was  the  landscape  of  Miss  Saunders."  He 
waited,  as  if  for  Ludlow  to  speak ;  then  he  went  on : 
"I  supposed  you  had  been  working  from  some  new 
theory  of  yours,  and  I  thought  I  had  said  about  as 
much  on  your  theories  as  you  would  stand  for  the 
time." 

"  Was  that  all  ?  "  Ludlow  asked. 

"All?  It  seems  to  me  that's  a  good  deal  to  be 
compressed  into  one  small  '  hello.'  " 

Wetmore  lighted  a  pipe,  and  began  to  smoke  in 
great  comfort.  "We  were  talking,  just  before  you 
dropped  in,  of  what  you  may  call  the  psychical  chem 
istry  of  our  kind  of  shop :  the  way  a  fellow  transmutes 
himself  into  everything  he  does.  I  can  trace  the  man 
himself  in  every  figure  he  draws  or  models.  You 
can't  get  away  from  yourself,  simply  because  you  are 
always  thinking  yourself,  or  through  yourself ;  you 
can't  see  or  know  any  one  else  in  any  other  way." 

"  It's  a  very  curious  thing,"  said  Ludlow,  uneasily. 
"  I've  noticed  that,  too ;  I  suppose  every  one  has.  But 
—  good-night." 

Wetmore  followed  him  out  of  the  studio  to  the  head 
of  the  public  stairs  with  a  lamp,  and  Ludlow  stopped 


THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA.  225 

there  again.  "  Should  you  think  there  was  anything 
any  one  but  you  would  notice  ?  " 

"You  mean  the  two  girls  themselves?  Well,  I 
should  say,  on  general  principles,  that  what  two  such 
girls  didn't  see  in  your  work  "  — 

"  Of  course !  Then  —  what  would  you  do  ?  Would 
you  speak  to  her  about  it  ?  " 

"  Which  ?  " 

"  You  know :  Miss  Saunders." 

"  Ah !     It  seems  rather  difficult,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  Confoundedly." 

"  Why,  if  you  mean  to  say  it  was  unconscious,  per 
haps  I  was  mistaken.  The  thing  may  have  been  alto 
gether  in  my  own  mind.  I'd  like  to  take  another  look 
at  it "  — 

"You  can't.  I've  painted  it  out."  Ludlow  ran 
down  one  flight  of  the  stairs,  and  then  came  stumbling 
quickly  back.  "  I  say,  Wetmore.  Do  you  tell  your 
wife  everything  ?  " 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  don't  tell  her  anything.     She  finds 

it  out.     But,  then,  she  never  tells  anybody." 
15 


XXVII. 

LTJDLOW  sent  word  again  to  Charmian  that  he 
should  not  be  able  to  keep  his  appointment  for  the 
afternoon,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  hope  to  find  Corne 
lia  at  home  from  the  Synthesis,  he  went  to  see  her. 

He  began  abruptly,  "  I  came  to  tell  you,  Miss  Saun- 
ders,  when  I  first  thought  of  painting  Miss  Maybough, 
and  now  I've  come  to  tell  you  that  I've  given  it  up." 

"  Given  it  up  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"  You've  seen  the  failures  I've  made.  I  took  my  last 
one  home  yesterday,  and  painted  it  out."  He  looked 
at  Cornelia,  but  if  he  expected  her  to  give  him  any 
sort  of  leading,  he  was  disappointed.  He  had  to  con 
clude  unaided,  "  I'm  not  going  to  try  any  more." 

She  did  not  answer,  and  he  went  on,  after  a  moment : 
"  Of  course,  it's  humiliating  to  make  a  failure,  but  it's 
better  to  own  it,  and  leave  it  behind  you ;  if  you  don't 
own  it,  you  have  to  carry  it  with  you,  and  it  remains  a 
burden." 

She  kept  her  eyes  away  from  him,  but  she  said, 
"  Oh,  yes ;  certainly  " 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  227 

"  The  worst  of  it  was  the  disappointment  I  had  to 
inflict  upon  Mrs.  Maybough,"  he  went  on  uneasily. 
"  She  was  really  hurt,  and  I  don't  believe  I  convinced 
her  after  all  that  I  simply  and  honestly  couldn't  get 
the  picture.  I  went  to  tell  her  this  afternoon,  and  she 
seemed  to  feel  some  sort  of  disparagement  —  I  can't 
express  it  —  in  my  giving  it  up." 

He  stopped,  and  Cornelia  asked,  as  if  forced  to  say 
something,  "  Does  Charmian  know  ?  " 

"I  suppose  she  does,  by  this  time,"  said  Ludlow. 
He  roused  himself  from  a  moment  of  revery,  and 
added,  "  But  I  didn't  intend  to  oppress  you  with  this. 
I  want  to  tell  you  something  —  else." 

He  drew  a  deep  breath.  She  started  forward  where 
she  sat,  and  looked  past  him  at  the  door,  as  if  to  see 
whether  the  way  of  escape  was  clear.  He  went  on : 
"I  took  Wetmore  there  with  me  yesterday,  and  I 
showed  him  your  sketches,  and  he  thinks  you  might 
get  one  of  them  into  the  Academy  exhibition  in  the 
spring,  after  you've  carried  it  a  little  farther." 

She  sank  back  in  her  chair.  "Does  he?"  she 
asked  listlessly,  and  she  thought,  as  of  another  person, 
how  her  heart  would  once  have  thrilled  at  the  hope  of 
this. 

"  Yes.     But  I  don't  feel  sure  that  it  would  be  well," 


228  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

said  Ludlow.  "  I  wanted  to  say,  though,  that  I  shall 
be  glad  to  come  and  be  of  any  little  use  I  can  if  you're 
going  on  with  it." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Cornelia.  She  thought  she 
was  going  to  say  something  more,  but  she  stopped 
stiffly  at  that,  and  they  both  stood  in  an  embarrassment 
which  neither  could  hide  from  the  other.  He  re 
peated  his  offer,  in  other  terms,  and  she  was  able 
finally  to  thank  him  a  little  more  fitly,  and  to  say  that 
she  should  not  forget  his  kind  offer ;  she  should  not 
forget  all  he  had  done  for  her,  all  the  trouble  he  had 
taken,  and  they  parted  with  a  vague  alienation. 

As  we  grow  older,  we  are  impatient  of  misunder 
standings,  of  disagreements ;  we  make  haste  to  have 
them  explained  ;  but  while  we  are  young,  life  seems  so 
spacious  and  so  full  of  chances  that  we  fetch  a  large 
compass  round  about  such  things,  and  wait  for  favoring 
fortuities,  and  hope  for  occasions  precisely  fit ;  we  lin 
ger  in  dangerous  delays,  and  take  risks  that  may  be 
ruinous. 

Cornelia  went  back  to  her  work  at  the  Synthesis  as 
before,  but  she  worked  listlessly  and  aimlessly;  the 
zest  was  gone,  and  the  meaning.  She  knew  that  for 
the  past  month  she  had  drudged  through  the  morning 
at  the  Synthesis  that  she  might  free  herself  to  the 


THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  229 

glad  endeavor  of  the  afternoon  at  Charmian's  studio 
with  a  good  conscience.  Ludlow's  criticism,  even 
when  it  was  harshest,  was  incentive  and  inspiration ; 
and  her  life  was  blank  and  dull  on  the  old  terms. 

The  arts  have  a  logic  of  their  own,  which  seems  no 
logic  at  all  to  the  interests.  Ludlow's  world  found  it 
altogether  fit  and  intelligible  that  he  should  give  up 
trying  to  paint  Charmian  if  he  had  failed  to  get  his 
picture  of  her,  and  thought  he  could  not  get  it.  Mrs. 
Maybough's  world  regarded  it  as  a  breach  of  contract 
for  him  not  to  do  what  he  had  undertaken.  She  had 
more  trouble  to  reconcile  her  friends  to  his  behavior 
than  she  had  in  justifying  it  to  herself.  Through 
Charmian  she  had  at  least  a  second-hand  appreciation 
of  motives  and  principles  that  were  instantly  satisfac 
tory  to  the  girl  and  to  all  her  comrades  at  the  Synthe 
sis;  they  accepted  it  as  another  proof  of  Ludlow's 
greatness  that  he  should  frankly  own  he  had  missed 
his  picture  of  her,  and  they  exalted  Charmian  as  a 
partner  in  his  merit,  for  being  so  impossible.  The 
arguments  of  Wetmore  went  for  something  with  Mrs. 
Maybough,  though  they  were  mainly  admissions  to  the 
effect  that  Ludlow  was  more  of  a  crank  than  he  had 
supposed,  and  would  have  to  be  humored  in  a  case  of 
the  kind ;  but  it  was  chiefly  the  courage  and  friendship 


230  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

of  Mrs.  Westley  that  availed.  She  enforced  what 
she  had  to  say  in  his  behalf  with  the  invitation  to  her 
January  Thursdays  which  she  had  brought.  She  had 
brought  it  in  person  because  she  wished  to  beg  Mrs. 
Maybough  to  let  her  daughter  come  with  her  friend, 
Misa  Saunders,  and  pour  tea  at  the  first  of  the  Thurs 
days. 

"  I  got  you  off,"  she  said  to  Ludlow,  when  they  met, 
"  but  it  was  not  easy.  She  still  thinks  you  ought  to 
have  let  her  see  your  last  attempt,  and  left  her  to  de 
cide  whether  it  was  good  or  not." 

Mrs.  "Westley  showed  her  amusement  at  this,  but 
Ludlow  answered  gravely  that  there  was  a  certain 
reason  in  the  position.  "  If  she's  disappointed  in  not 
having  any  portrait,  though,"  he  added,  "  she  had  bet 
ter  take  Miss  Saunders's." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that  ?  "  Mrs.  Westley  asked, 
with  more  or  less  of  that  incredulity  concerning  the 
performance  of  a  woman  which  all  the  sex  feel,  in 
spite  of  their  boasting  about  one  another.  "  Has  she 
so  much  talent  ?  " 

"Why  not?     Somebody  has  to  have  the  talent." 

This  was  like  Wetmore's  tone,  and  it  made  Mrs. 
Westley  think  of  him.  "  And  do  you  believe  she  could 
get  her  picture  into  the  exhibition  ?  " 


THE    COAST   OF    BOHEMIA.  231 

"  Has  Wetmore  been  talking  to  you  about  it  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Ludlow.  "That  was  Wet- 
more's  notion." 

"And  does  she  know  about  it?  " 

"  I  mentioned  it  to  her." 

"  It  would  be  a  great  thing  for  her  if  she  could  get 
her  picture  in  —  and  sell  it." 

"  Yes,"  Ludlow  dryly  admitted.  He  wished  he  had 
never  told  Mrs.  Westley  how  Cornelia  had  earned  the 
money  for  her  studies  at  the  Synthesis ;  he  resented 
the  implication  of  her  need,  and  Mrs.  Westley  vaguely 
felt  that  she  had  somehow  gone  wrong.  She  made 
haste  to  retrieve  her  error  by  suggesting,  "  Perhaps 
Miss  Maybough  would  object,  though." 

"That's  hardly  thinkable,"  said  Ludlow  lightly. 
He  would  have  gone  away  without  making  Mrs.  West- 
ley  due  return  for  the  trouble  she  had  taken  for  him 
with  Mrs.  Maybough,  and  she  was  so  far  vexed  that 
she  would  have  let  him  go  without  telling  him  that  she 
was  going  to  have  his  protegee  pour  tea  for  her ;  she 
had  fancied  that  this  would  have  pleased  him. 

But  by  one  of  those  sudden  flashes  that  seem  to 
come  from  somewhere  without,  he  saw  himself  in  the 
odious  light  in  which  she  must  see  him,  and  he  turned 


232  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

in  time.  "  Mrs.  Westley,  I  think  you  have  taken  a 
great  deal  more  pains  for  me  than  I'm  worth.  It's 
difficult  to  care  what  such  a  poor  little  Philistine  as 
Mrs.  Maybough  —  the  mere  figment  of  somebody 
else's  misgotten  money  —  thinks  of  me.  But  she  is  to 
be  regarded,  and  I  know  that  you  have  looked  after 
her  in  my  interest ;  and  it's  very  kind  of  you,  and  very 
good  —  it's  like  you.  If  you've  done  it,  though,  with 
the  notion  of  my  keeping  on  in  portraits,  or  getting 
more  portraits  to  paint,  I'm  sorry,  for  I  shall  not  try  to 
do  any.  I'm  not  fit  for  that  kind  of  work.  I  don't 
say  it  because  I  despise  the  work,  but  because  I  despise 
myself.  I  should  always  let  some  wretched  preoccu 
pation  of  my  own  —  some  fancy,  some  whim  —  come 
between  me  and  what  I  see  my  sitter  to  be,  and  paint 
that." 

"  That  is,  you  have  some  imagination,"  she  began, 
in  defence  of  him  against  himself. 

"  No,  no  !  There's  scope  for  the  greatest  imagina 
tion,  the  most  intense  feeling,  in  portraits.  But  I 
can't  do  that  kind  of  thing,  and  1  must  stick  to  my 
little  sophistical  fantasies,  or  my  bald  reports  of  nature. 
But  Miss  Saunders,  if  she  were  not  a  woman  —  excuse 
me ! "  — 

"  Oh,  I  understand !  " 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  233 

"  She  could  do  it,  and  she  will,  if  she  keeps  on. 
She  could  have  a  career ;  she  could  be  a  painter  of 
women's  portraits.  A  man's  idea  of  a  woman,  it's  in 
teresting,  of  course,  but  it's  never  quite  just ;  it's  never 
quite  true  ;  it  can't  be.  Every  woman  knows  that,  but 
you  go  on  accepting  men's  notions  of  women,  in  litera 
ture  and  in  art,  as  if  they  were  essentially,  or  anything 
but  superficially,  like  women.  I  couldn't  get  a  picture 
of  Miss  Maybough  because  I  was  always  making  more 
or  less  than  there  really  was  of  her.  You  were  speaking 
the  other  night  at  Wetmore's,  of  the  uncertain  quality 
of  her  beauty,  and  the  danger  of  getting  something 
else  in,"  said  Ludlow,  suddenly  grappling  with  the 
fact,  "and  I  was  always  doing  that,  or  else  leaving 
everything  out.  Her  beauty  has  no  fixed  impression. 
It  ranges  from  something  exquisite  to  something  gro 
tesque  ;  just  as  she  ranges  in  character  from  the  no 
blest  generosity  to  the  most  inconceivable  absurdfty. 
You  never  can  know  how  she  will  look  or  how  she  will 
behave.  At  least,  /  couldn't.  I  was  always  guessing 
at  her ;  but  Miss  Saunders  seemed  to  understand  her. 
All  her  studies  of  her  are  alike ;  the  last  might  be 
taken  for  the  first,  except  that  the  handling  is  better. 
It's  invariably  the  very  person,  without  being  in  the 
least  photographic,  as  people  call  it,  because  it  is  one 


234  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

woman's  unclouded  perception  of  another.  The  only 
question  is  whether  Miss  Saunders  can  keep  that  sav 
ing  simplicity.  It  may  be  trained  out  of  her,  or  she 
may  be  taught  to  put  other  things  before  it.  Wetmore 
felt  the  danger  of  that,  when  we  looked  at  her  sketches. 
I'm  not  saying  they're  not  full  of  faults ;  the  technique 
is  bad  enough ;  sometimes  it's  almost  childish ;  but  the 
root  of  the  matter  is  there.  She  knows  what  she  sees, 
and  she  tells." 

"  Really  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Westley.  "  It  is  hard  for  a 
woman  to  believe  much  in  women ;  we  don't  expect 
anything  of  each  other  yet.  Should  you  like  her  to 
paint  me  ?  " 

"I?" 

"  I  mean,  do  you  think  she  could  do  it  ?  " 

"  Not  yet.  She  doesn't  know  enough  of  life,  even 
if  she  knew  enough  of  art.  She  merely  painted 
another  girl." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Westley  with  a  sigh. 
She  added  impersonally,  "  But  if  people  only  kept  to 
what  they  knew,  and  didn't  do  what  they  divined, 
there  would  be  very  little  art  or  literature  left,  it  seems 
to  me." 

"  Well,  perhaps  the  less  the  better,"  said  Ludlow, 
with  a  smile  for  the  absurdity  he  was  reduced  to. 
"  What  was  left  would  certainly  be  the  best." 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  235 

He  felt  as  if  his  praise  of  Cornelia  were  somehow 
retrieval ;  as  if  it  would  avail  where  he  seemed  other 
wise  so  helpless,  and  would  bring  them  together  on  the 
old  terms  again.  There  was,  indeed,  nothing  explicit 
in  their  alienation,  and  when  he  saw  Cornelia  at  Mrs. 
Westley's  first  Thursday,  he  made  his  way  to  her  at 
once,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  give  him  some  tea, 
with  the  effect  of  having  had  a  cup  from  her  the  day  be 
fore.  He  did  not  know  whether  to  be  pleased  or  not 
that  she  treated  their  meeting  as  something  uneventful, 
too,  and  made  a  little  joke  about  remembering  that  he 
liked  his  tea  without  sugar. 

"  I  wasn't  aware  that  you  knew  that,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  that  is  the  way  Charmian  always  made 
it  for  you ;  and  sometimes  I  made  it." 

"  To  be  sure.  It  seems  a  great  while  ago.  How 
are  you  getting  on  with  your  picture  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  getting  on,"  said  Cornelia,  and  she  turned 
aside  to  make  a  cup  of  tea  for  an  old  gentleman,  who 
confessed  that  he  liked  a  spoonful  of  rum  in  his. 
General  Westley  had  brought  him  up  and  presented 
him,  and  he  remained  chatting  with  Cornelia,  appar 
ently  in  the  fatuity  that  if  he  talked  trivially  to  her  he 
would  be  the  same  as  a  young  man.  Ludlow  stayed, 
too,  and  when  the  old  gentleman  got  away,  he  said,  the 


236  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

same  as  if  there  had  been  no  interruption,  "  Why 
aren't  you  getting  on  ?  " 

"  Because  I'm  not  doing  anything  to  it." 

"  You  ought  to.  I  told  you  what  Wetinore  said  of 
it." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  don't  know  how,"  said  Cornelia,  with 
a  laugh  that  he  liked ;  it  seemed  an  effect  of  pleasure 
in  his  presence  at  her  elbow ;  though  from  time  to 
time  she  ignored  him,  and  talked  with  other  people 
who  came  for  tea.  He  noticed  that  she  had  begun  to 
have  a  little  society  manner  of  her  own ;  he  did  not 
know  whether  he  liked  it  or  not.  She  wore  a  very 
pretty  dress,  too ;  one  he  had  not  seen  before. 

"  Will  you  let  me  show  you  how  —  as  well  as  I 
can?" 

"  After  I've  asked  you  ?     Thank  you !  " 

"  I  offered,  once,  before  you  asked." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Cornelia,  with  her  face  aslant  from  him 
over  her  tea-cups.  "  I  thought  you  had  forgotten 
that." 

He  winced,  but  he  knew  that  he  deserved  the  little 
scratch.  He  did  not  try  to  exculpate  himself,  but  he 
asked,  "  May  I  talk  with  Miss  Maybough  about  it  ?  " 

Cornelia  returned  gayly,  "  It's  a  free  country." 

He  rose  from  the  chair  which  he  had  been  keeping 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  237 

at  her  elbow,  and  looked  about  over  the  room.  It  was 
very  full,  and  the  first  of  Mrs.  Westley's  Thursdays 
was  successful  beyond  question.  With  the  roving  eye, 
which  he  would  not  suffer  to  be  intercepted,  he  saw  the 
distinguished  people  whom  she  had  hitherto  affected  in 
their  usual  number,  and  in  rather  unusual  number  the 
society  people  who  had  probably  come  to  satisfy  an 
amiable  curiosity;  he  made  his  reflection  that  Mrs. 
Westley's  evolution  was  proceeding  in  the  inevitable 
direction,  and  that  in  another  winter  the  swells  would 
come  so  increasingly  that  there  would  be  no  celebrities 
for  them  to  see.  His  glance  rested  upon  Mrs.  May- 
bough,  who  stood  in  a  little  desolation  of  her  own,  try 
ing  to  look  as  if  she  were  not  there,  and  he  had  the 
inspiration  to  go  and  speak  to  her  instead  of  her 
daughter;  there  were  people  enough  speaking  to 
Charmian,  or  seeming  to  speak  to  her,  which  serves 
much  the  same  purpose  on  such  occasions.  She  was 
looking  her  most  mysterious,  and  he  praised  her  pecu 
liar  charm  to  Mrs.  Maybough. 

"  It's  no  wonder  I  failed  with  that  portrait." 
Mrs.  Maybough  said,  "  You   must   try  again,  Mr. 
Ludlow." 

"  No,  I  won't  abuse  your  patience  again,  but  I  will 
tell  you  :  I  should  like  to  come  and  look  now  and  then 


238  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

at  the  picture  Miss  Saunders  has  begun  of  her,  and 
that  I  want  her  to  keep  on  with." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Maybough  in  the  softest 
assent.  She  would  not  listen  to  the  injuries  which 
Ludlow  heaped  upon  himself  in  proof  of  his  unworthi- 
ness  to  cross  her  threshold. 

He  went  back  to  Cornelia,  and  said,  "Well,  it's 
arranged.  I've  spoken  with  Mrs.  Maybough,  and  we 
can  begin  again  whenever  you  like." 

"  With  Mrs.  Maybough  ?  You  said  you  were  going 
to  speak  to  Charmian !  " 

"  It  doesn't  matter,  does  it  ?  " 

"  Yeg.  I  —  I  don't  know  yet  as  I  want  to  go  on 
with  the  picture.  I  hadn't  thought "  — 

"  Oh !  "  said  Ludlow,  with  marked  politeness.  "  Then 
I  misunderstood.  But  don't  let  it  annoy  you.  It 
doesn't  matter,  of  course.  There's  no  sort  of  appoint 
ment." 

He  found  Mrs.  Westley  in  a  moment  of  disoccupa- 
tion  before  he  went,  and  used  a  friend's  right  to  recog 
nize  the  brilliancy  of  her  Thursday.  She  refused  all 
merit  for  it,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  seen  any 
thing  like  the  contrast  of  Charmian  at  the  chocolate 
with  Cornelia  at  the  tea.  "  Did  you  notice  the  gown 
Miss  Saunders  had  on  ?  It's  one  that  her  mother  has 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  239 

just  sent  her  from  home.  She  says  her  mother  made 
it,  and  she  came  to  ask  me,  the  other  day,  if  it  would 
do  to  pour  tea  in.  Wasn't  it  delightful  ?  I'm  going 
to  have  her  spend  a  week  with  me  in  Lent.  The  gen 
eral  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  her.  I  think  I  begin 
to  appreciate  her  fascination  ;  it's  her  courage  and  her 
candor  together.  Most  girls  are  so  uncertain  and 
capricious.  It's  delightful  to  meet  such  u  straightfor 
ward  and  downright  creature." 
"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Ludlow. 


XXVIII. 

CORNELIA  knew  that  Ludlow  was  offended.  She 
had  not  meant  to  hurt  or  offend  him;  though  she 
thought  he  had  behaved  very  queerly  ever  since  he 
gave  up  painting  Charmian.  She  had  really  not 
had  time  to  think  of  his  offer  before  he  went  off  to 
speak  with  Charmian,  as  she  supposed.  The  moment 
he  was  gone  she  saw  that  it  would  not  do ;  that  she 
could  not  have  him  coming  to  look  at  her  work ;  she 
did  not  feel  that  she  could  ever  touch  it  again.  She 
wondered  at  him,  and  now  if  he  had  spoken  to  Mrs. 
Maybough  instead  of  Charmian,  it  was  not  her  fault, 
certainly.  She  did  not  wish  to  revenge  herself,  but 
she  remembered  how  much  she  had  been  left  to  ac 
count  for  as  she  could,  or  painfully  to  ignore.  If  he 
was  mystified  and  puzzled  now,  it  was  no  more  than 
she  had  been  before. 

There  was  nothing  that  Cornelia  hated  so  much  as 
to  be  made  a  fool  of,  and  this  was  the  grievance  which 
she  was  willing  fate  should  retaliate  upon  him,  though 
she  had  not  meant  it  at  all.  She  ought  to  have  been 


THE    COAST   OP   BOHEMIA.  241 

satisfied,  and  she  ought  to  have  been  happy,  but  she 
was  not. 

She  wished  to  escape  from  herself,  and  she  eagerly 
accepted  an  invitation  to  go  with  Mrs.  Montgomery  to 
the  theatre  that  night.  The  manager  had  got  two 
places  and  given  them  to  the  landlady. 

Cornelia  had  a  passion  for  the  theatre,  and  in  the 
excitement  of  the  play,  which  worked  strongly  in  her 
ingenuous  fancy,  she  forgot  herself  for  the  time,  or 
dimly  remembered  the  real  world  and  her  lot  in  it,  as 
if  it  were  a  subordinate  action  of  the  piece.  At  the 
end  of  the  fourth  act  she  heard  a  voice  which  she 
knew,  saying,  "  Well,  well !  Is  this  the  way  the  folks 
at  Pymantoning  expect  you  to  spend  your  evenings  ?  " 
She  looked  up  and  around,  and  saw  Mr.  Dickerson  in 
the  seat  behind  her.  He  put  forward  two  hands  over 
her  shoulder  —  one  for  her  to  shake,  and  one  for  Mrs. 
Montgomery.  * 

"  Why,  Mr.  Dickerson  !  "  said  the  landlady,  "  where 
did  you  spring  from  ?  You  been  sitting  here  behind 
us  all  the  time?" 

"  I  wish  I  had,"  said  Dickerson.  "  But  this  seat  is 
'  another's,'  as  they  say  on  the  stage ;  he's  gone  out  '  to 
see  a  man,'  and  I'm  keeping  it  for  him.  Just  caught 
sight  of  you  before  the  curtain  fell.  Couldn't  hardly 

believe  my  eyes." 
16 


242  THE    COAST   OP   BOHEMIA. 

"  But  where  are  you  ?  Why  haven't  you  been 
round  to  the  house  ?  " 

"Well,  I'm  only  here  for  a  day,"  said  Dickerson, 
with  a  note  of  self-denial  in  his  voice  that  Cornelia 
knew  was  meant  for  her,  "  and  I  thought  I  wouldn't 
disturb  you.  No  use  making  so  many  bites  of  a  cherry. 
I  got  in  so  late  last  night  I  had  to  go  to  a  hotel  any 
way." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  began  some  hospitable  expostula 
tions,  but  he  waived  them  with,  "  Yes  ;  that's  all  right. 
I'll  remember  it  next  time,  Mrs.  Montgomery,"  and 
then  he  began  to  speak  of  the  play,  and  he  was  so 
funny  about  some  things  in  it  that  he  made  Cornelia 
laugh.  He  took  leave  of  them  when  the  owner  of  the 
seat  came  back.  He  told  Mrs.  Montgomery  he  should 
not  see  her  again  this  time ;  but  at  the  end  of  the  play 
they  found  him  waiting  for  them  at  the  outer  door  of 
the  theatre.  He  skipped  lightly  into  step  with  them. 
"  Thought  I  might  as  well  see  you  home,  as  they  say 
in  Pymantoning.  Do'  know  as  I  shall  be  back  for 
quite  a  while,  this  next  trip,  and  we  don't  see  much 
ladies'  society  on  the  road;  at  least,  /don't.  I'm  not 
so  easy  to  make  acquaintance  as  I  used  to  be.  I  sup 
pose  it  was  being  married  so  long.  I  can't  manage  to 
help  a  pretty  girl  raise  a  car-window,  or  put  her  grip 


THE   COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  243 

into  the  rack,  the  way  I  could  once.  Fact  is,  there 
don't  seem  to  be  so  many  pretty  girls  as  there  were,  or 
else  I'm  gettin'  old-sighted,  and  can't  see  'em." 

He  spoke  to  Mrs.  Montgomery,  but  Cornelia  knew 
he  was  talking  at  her.  Now  he  leaned  forward  and 
addressed  her  across  Mrs.  Montgomery :  "  Do'  know 
as  I  told  you  that  I  saw  your  mother  in  Lakeland  day 
before  yesterday,  Miss  Saunders." 

"  Oh,  did  you  ? "  Cornelia  eagerly  besought  him. 
The  apparition  of  her  mother  rose  before  her ;  it  was 
almost  like  having  her  actually  there,  to  meet  some 
one  who  had  seen  her  so  lately.  "  Was  she  look 
ing  well  ?  The  last  letter  she  wrote  she  hadn't  been 
very  "  — 

"  Well,  I  guess  she's  all  right,  now.  You  know  1 
think  your  mother  is  about  the  finest  woman  in  this 
world,  Miss  Nelie,  and  the  prettiest-looking.  I've 
never  told  you  about  Mrs.  Saunders,  have  I,  Mrs. 
Montgomery  ?  Well,  you  wouldn't  know  but  her  and 
Miss  Nelie  were  sisters.  She  looks  like  a  girl,  a  little 
way  off ;  and  she  is  a  girl,  in  her  feelings.  She's  got 
the  kindest  heart,  and  she's  the  best  person  /  ever 
saw.  I  tell  you,  it  would  be  a  different  sort  of  a 
world  if  everybody  was  like  Mrs.  Saunders,  and  I 
should  ha'  been  a  different  sort  of  a  man  if  I'd  always 


244  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

appreciated  her  goodness.  Well,  so  it  goes,"  he  said, 
with  a  sigh  of  indefinite  regret,  which  availed  with 
Cornelia  because  it  was  mixed  with  praise  of  her 
mother ;  it  made  her  feel  safer  with  him  and  more 
tolerant.  He  leaned  forward  again,  and  said  across 
Mrs.  Montgomery,  as  before :  "  She  was  gettin'  off  the 
train  from  Pymantoning,  and  I  was  just  takin'  my 
train  West,  but  I  knew  it  was  her  as  soon  as  I  saw  her 
walk.  I  was  half  a  mind  to  stop  and  speak  to  her,  and 
let  my  train  go." 

Cornelia  could  see  her  mother,  just  how  she  would 
look,  wandering  sweetly  and  vaguely  away  from  her 
train,  and  the  vision  was  so  delightful  to  her,  that  it 
made  her  laugh.  "  I  guess  you're  mother's  girl," 
Mrs.  Montgomery  interpreted,  and  Mr.  Dickerson 
said: 

"Well,  I  guess  she's  got  a  good  right  to  be.  I 
wasn't  certain  whether  it  was  her  or  Miss  Saunders 
first  when  I  saw  her,  the  other  day." 

At  her  door  Mrs.  Montgomery  invited  him  to  come 
in,  and  he  said  he  did  not  know  but  he  would  for  a 
minute,  and  Cornelia's  gratitude  for  his  praise  of  her 
mother  kept  her  from  leaving  them  at  once.  In  the 
dining-room,  where  Mrs.  Montgomery  set  out  a  lunch 
for  him,  he  began  to  tell  stories. 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHKMIA.  245 

Cornelia  had  no  grudge  against  him  for  the  past. 
She  was  only  too  glad  that  it  had  all  fallen  out  as  it 
did ;  and  though  she  still  knew  that  he  was  a  shameless 
little  wretch,  she  did  not  feel  so  personally  disgraced 
by  him,  as  she  had  at  first,  when  she  was  not  sure  she 
could  make  him  keep  his  distance.  He  was  a  respite 
from  her  own  thoughts,  and  she  lingered  and  lingered, 
and  listened  and  listened,  remotely  aware  that  it  was 
wrong,  but  somehow  bewildered  and  constrained. 

Mrs.  Montgomery  went  down  to  the  kitchen  a  mo 
ment,  for  something  more  to  add  to  the  lunch,  and  he 
seized  the  chance  to  say,  "  I  know  how  you  feel  about 
me,  Miss  Saunders,  and  I  don't  blame  you.  Yon 
needn't  be  afraid;  I  ain't  going  to  trouble  you.  I 
might,  if  you  was  a  different  kind  of  girl ;  but  I've 
thought  it  all  over  since  I  saw  you,  and  I  respect  you. 
I  hope  you  won't  give  me  away  to  Mrs.  Montgomery, 
but  if  you  do,  I  shall  respect  you  all  the  same,  and  I 
sha'n't  blame  you,  even  then."  The  landlady  returned, 
and  he  went  on,  I  was  just  tellin'  Miss  Saunders  about 
my  friend  Bob  Whiteley's  railroad  accident.  But 
you've  heard  it  so  often." 

"  Oh,  well,  do  go  on !  "  said  Mrs.  Montgomery,  set 
ting  down  the  plate  of  cold  chicken  she  had  brought 
back  with  her. 


246  THE   COAST   OP    BOHEMIA. 

It  was  midnight  before  he  rose.  "  I  declare  I  could 
listen  all  night,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery. 

Cornelia  could  have  done  so,  too,  but  she  did  not 
say  it  While  the  talk  lasted,  she  had  a  pleasure  in 
the  apt  slang,  and  sinister  wit  and  low  wisdom,  which 
made  everything  higher  and  nobler  seem  ridiculous. 
She  tried  helplessly  to  rise  above  the  delight  she 
found  in  it,  and  while  she  listened,  she  was  miserably 
aware  that  she  was  unworthy  even  of  the  cheap 
respect  which  this  amusing  little  wretch  made  a  show 
of  paying  her  before  Mrs.  Montgomery. 

She  loathed  him,  and  yet  she  hated  to  have  him  go ; 
for  then  she  would  be  left  to  herself  and  her  own 
thoughts.  As  she  crept  up  the  long  stairs  to  her  room, 
she  asked  herself  if  she  could  be  the  same  girl  who 
had  poured  tea  at  Mrs.  Westley's,  and  talked  to  all 
those  refined  people,  who  seemed  to  admire  her  and 
make  much  of  her,  as  if  she  were  one  of  them.  Before, 
she  had  escaped  from  the  toils  of  that  folly  of  the  past 
by  disowning  it ;  but  now,  she  had  voluntarily  made  it 
hers.  She  had  wilfully  entangled  herself  in  its  toils ; 
they  seemed  to  trip  her  steps,  and  make  her  stumble 
on  the  stairs  as  if  they 'were  tangible  things.  She  had 
knowingly  suffered  such  a  man  as  that,  whose  com 
monness  of  soul  she  had  always  instinctively  felt,  to 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  247 

come  back  into  her  life,  and  she  could  never  banish 
him  again.  She  could  never  even  tell  any  one ;  she 
was  the  captive  of  her  shabby  secret  till  he  should 
come  again  and  openly  claim  her.  He  would  come 
again  ;  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that. 

Oil  the  bureau  before  her  glass  lay  a  letter.  It 
was  from  Ludlow,  and  it  delicately  expressed  the 
hope  that  there  had  been  nothing  in  his  manner  of 
offering  to  help  her  with  her  picture  which  made  it 
impossible  for  her  to  accept.  "  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  I  think  you  have  talent,  for  I  have  told  you  that 
before.  I  have  flattered  myself  that  I  had  a  personal 
interest  in  it,  because  I  saw  it  long  ago,  and  I  have 
been  rather  proud  of  thinking  that  you  were  making 
use  of  me.  I  wish  you  would  think  the  matter  over, 
and  decide  to  go  on  with  your  picture  of  Miss  May- 
bough.  I  promise  to  reduce  my  criticism  to  a  mini 
mum,  for  I  think  it  is  more  important  that  you  should 
keep  on  in  your  own  way,  even  if  you  go  a  little 
wrong  in  it,  now  and  then,  than  that  you  should  go 
perfectly  right  in  some  one's  else.  Do  let  me  hear 
from  you,  and  say  that  I  may  come  Saturday  to  Miss 
Maybough's  studio,  and  silently  see  what  you  are 
doing." 

In  a  postscript  he  wrote :  "  I  am  afraid  that  I  have 


248  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

offended  you  by  something  in  my  words  or  ways.  If 
I  have,  won't  you  at  least  let  me  come  and  be  for 
given  ?  " 

She  dropped  her  face  on  the  letter  where  it  lay 
open  before  her,  and  stretched  out  her  arms,  and 
moaned  in  a  despair  that  no  tears  even  came  to  soften. 
She  realized  how  much  worse  it  was  to  have  made  a 
fool  of  herself  than  to  be  made  a  fool  of. 


XXIX. 

THERE  was  only  one  thing  for  Cornelia  to  do  now, 
and  she  did  it  as  well  as  she  knew  how,  or  could  hope 
to  know  without  the  help  that  she  could  not  seek  any 
where.  She  wrote  to  Ludlow  and  thanked  him,  and 
told  him  that  she  did  not  think  she  should  go  on  with 
the  picture  of  Charmian,  for  the  present.  She  said,  in 
the  first  five  or  six  drafts  of  her  letter,  that  it  had  been 
her  uncertainty  as  to  this  which  made  her  hesitate 
when  he  spoke  to  her,  but  in  every  form  she  gave  this 
she  found  it  false ;  and  at  last  she  left  it  out  altogether, 
and  merely  assured  him  that  she  had  nothing  whatever 
to  forgive  him.  She  wished  to  forbid  his  coming  to 
see  her ;  she  did  not  know  quite  how  to  do  that;  but 
either  the  tone  of  her  letter  was  forbidding  enough,  or 
else  he  felt  that  he  had  done  his  whole  duty,  now,  for 
he  did  not  come. 

With  moments  of  utter  self-abasement,  she  had  to 
leave  Charmian  to  the  belief  that  she  was  distraught 
and  captious,  solely  for  the  reason  they  shared  the 
secret  of,  and  Charmian  respected  this  with  a  devo 
tion  so  obvious  as  to  be  almost  spectacular.  Cornelia 


250  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

found  herself  turning  into  a  romantic  heroine,  and  had 
to  make  such  struggle  against  the  transformation  as 
she  could  in  bursts  of  hysterical  gayety.  These  had 
rather  the  effect  of  deepening  Charmian's  compassion 
ate  gloom,  till  she  exhausted  her  possibilities  in  that 
direction  and  began  to  crave  some  new  expression. 
There  was  no  change  in  her  affection  for  Cornelia ; 
and  there  were  times  when  Cornelia  longed  to  trust 
her  fully  ;  she  knew  that  it  would  be  safe,  and  she  did 
not  believe  that  it  would  lower  her  in  Charmian's 
eyes  ;  but  to  keep  the  fact  of  her  weakness  altogether 
her  own  seemed  the  only  terms  on  which  she  could 
bear  it. 

One  day  there  came  a  letter  from  her  mother 
out  of  her  usual  order  of  writing ;  she  wrote  on  Sun 
day,  and  her  letters  reached  Cornelia  the  next  evening ; 
but  this  letter  came  on  a  Wednesday  morning,  and  the 
eight  of  it  filled  Cornelia  with  alarm,  first  for  her 
mother,  and  then  for  herself ;  which  deepened  as  she 
read : 

"DEAR  NIC:  That  good-for-nothing  little  scrub 
has  been  here,  talken  aboute  you,  and  acting  as  if  you 
was  hand-and-glove  with  him.  Now  Nelie,  I  don't 
want  to  interfere  with  you  anyway  and  I  won't  if  you 
say  the  word.  But  I  never  felt  just  righte  about  that 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  251 

fellow,  and  what  I  done  long  ago  to  make  you  tollerate 
him,  and  now  I  want  to  make  it  up  to  you  if  I  can. 
He  is  a  common  low-down  person,  and  he  isn't  fit'  to 
speake  to  you,  and  I  hope  you  wont  speake  to  him. 
The  divorce,  the  way  I  look  at  it,  dont  make  any 
difference ;  hese  just  as  much  married  as  what  he  ever 
was,  and  if  he  had  never  been  married  atoll,  it  wouldn't 
of  made  any  difference  as  far  as  I  feel  about  it.  Now 
Nelie,  you  are  old  enough  to  take  care  of  yourself, 
but  I  hope  if  that  fellow  ever  comes  around  you  again, 
you'll  box  his  ears  and  be  done  with  him.  I  know 
hes  got  a  smooth  tongue,  and  he  can  make  you  laugh 
in  spite  of  yourselfe,  but  don't  you  have  anything  to 
do  with  him.  MOTHER. 

"  P.  S.  I  have  been  talken  it  over  with  Mrs.  Burton, 
and  she  thinks  just  the  way  I  do  aboute  it.  She  thinks 
you  are  good  enough  for  the  best,  and  you  no  need  to 
throw  yourself  away  on  such  a  perfect  little  scamp. 
In  haste.  How  is  that  cellebrated  picture  that  you 
are  painting  with  Mr.  Ludlow  getting  along  ?  " 

Cornelia  got  this  letter  from  the  postman  at  Mrs. 
Montgomery's  door,  when  she  opened  it  to  go  out  in 
the  morning,  and  she  read  it  on  her  way  to  the  Synthe 
sis.  It  seemed  to  make  the  air  reel  around  her,  and 


252  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

step  by  step  she  felt  as  if  she  should  fall.  A  wild  anger 
swelled  her  heart,  and  left  no  room  there  for  shame 
even.  She  wondered  what  abominable  lies  that  little 
wretch  had  told  ;  but  they  must  have  been  impudent 
indeed  to  overcome  her  mother's  life-long  reluctance 
from  writing  and  her  well-grounded  fears  of  spelling, 
so  far  as  to  make  her  send  a  letter  out  of  the  usual 
course.  But  when  her  first  fury  passed,  and  she  began 
to  grow  weak  in  the  revulsion,  she  felt  only  her  help 
lessness  in  the  presence  of  such  audacity,  and  a  fear 
that  nothing  could  save  her  from  him.  If  he  could 
make  her  so  far  forget  herself  as  to  tolerate  him,  to 
listen  to  his  stories,  to  laugh  at  his  jokes,  and  show 
him  that  she  enjoyed  his  company,  after  all  she  knew 
of  him,  then  he  could  make  her  marry  him,  if  he  tried. 

The  logic  was  perfect,  and  It  seemed  but  another 
link  in  the  infrangible  chain  of  events,  when  she 
found  another  letter  waiting  for  her  at  the  office  of  the 
Synthesis.  It  bore  the  postmark  of  Lakeland,  of  the 
same  date  as  her  mother's,  and  in  the  corner  of  the 
envelope  the  business  card  of  Gates  &  Clarkson, 
Dealers  in  Art  Goods  ;  J.  B.  Dickerson,  in  a  line  of 
fine  print  at  the  top  was  modestly  "  with  "  them. 

The  address,  "  Dear  friend,"  was  written  over 
something  else  which  had  been  rubbed  out,  but  beyond 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  253 

this  the  letter  ran  fluently  and  uninterruptedly  along 
in  a  hand  which  had  a  business-like  directness  and  dis 
tinctness.  "  I  don't  know,"  the  writer  said,  "  as  you 
expected  to  hear  from  me,  and  I  don't  know  as  I  ex 
pected  to  let  you,  but  circumstances  alter  cases,  and  I 
just  wanted  to  drop  you  a  line  and  tell  you  that  I  have 
been  in  Pymantoning  and  seen  your  mother.  She  is 
looking  prime,  and  younger  than  ever.  We  had  a 
long  talk  about  old  times,  and  I  told  her  what  a  mis 
take  I  made.  Confession  is  good  for  the  soul,  they 
say,  and  I  took  a  big  dose  of  it ;  I  guess  I  confessed 
pretty  much  everything  ;  regular  Topsey  style.  Well, 
your  mother  didn't  spare  me  any,  and  I  don't  know  but 
what  she  was  about  right.  The  fact  is,  a  man  on  the 
road  don't  think  as  much  about  his  p's  and  q's  as  he 
ought  as  long  as  he  is  young,  and  if  I  made  a  bad 
break  in  that  little  matrimonial  venture  of  mine,  I 
guess  it  was  no  more  than  I  deserved  to.  I  told  your 
mother  just  how  I  happened  to  meet  you  again,  and  how 
the  sight  of  you  was  enough  to  make  another  man  of 
me.  I  was  always  a  little  too  much  afraid  of  you,  or 
it  might  have  turned  out  different ;  but  I  can  appre 
ciate  a  character  like  yours,  and  I  want  you  to  know 
it.  I  guess  your  mother  sized  it  up  about  right  when 
I  said  all  I  asked  was  to  worship  you  at  a  distance,  and 


254  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

she  said  she  guessed  you  would  look  out  for  the  dis 
tance.  I  told  her  you  had,  up  to  date.  I  want  you 
to  understand  that  I  don't  presume  on  anything,  and 
if  we  seemed  to  have  a  pretty  good  time  after  the 
theatre,  the  other  night,  it  was  because  you  didn't 
want  to  spoil  Mrs.  Montgomery's  fun,  and  treated  me 
well  just  because  I  was  a  friend  of  hers.  Well,  it's 
pretty  hard  to  realize  that  my  life  is  ruined,  and  that 
I  have  got  nobody  but  myself  to  thank  for  it,  but 
I  guess  that's  what  I've  got  to  come  to,  sooner  or  later. 
It's  what  your  mother  said,  and  I  guess  she  was  right ; 
she  didn't  spare  me  a  bit,  and  I  didn't  want  her  to.  I 
knew  she  would  write  to  you,  as  soon  as  I  was  gone, 
and  tell  you  not  to  have  anything  to  do  with  me ;  and 
if  she  has,  all  I  have  got  to  say  is,  all  right.  I  have 
been  a  bad  lot,  and  I  don't  deny  it,  and  all  I  can  ask 
now,  from  this  time  forward,  is  to  be  kept  from  doing 
any  more  mischief.  I  don't  know  as  I  shall  ever  see 
you  again ;  I  had  a  kind  of  presentiment  I  shouldn't, 
and  I  told  your  mother  so.  I  don't  know  but  I  told 
a  little  more  about  how  kind  you  were  to  me  the  other 
evening  than  what  the  facts  would  justify  exactly,  but 
as  sure  as  you  live  I  didn't  mean  to  lie  about  it.  If  I 
exaggerated  any,  it  was  because  it  seemed  the  greatest 
thing  in  the  world  to  me,  just  to  talk  to  you,  and  be 


THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  255 

where  I  could  see  you  smile,  and  hear  you  laugh ; 
you've  got  a  laugh  that  is  like  a  child's,  or  an  angel's, 
if  angels  laugh.  I've  heard  of  their  weeping,  and  if 
you  knew  my  whole  life,  I  think  you  would  shed  a 
tear  or  two  over  me.  But  that  is  not  what  I  am  try 
ing  to  get  at ;  I  want  to  explain  that  if  I  appeared  to 
brag  of  being  tolerated  by  you,  and  made  it  seem  any 
thing  more  than  toleration,  it  was  because  it  was  like 
heaven  to  me  not  to  have  you  give  me  the  grand 
bounce  again.  And  what  I  want  to  ask  you  now,  is 
just  to  let  me  write  to  you,  every  now  and  then,  and 
when  I  am  tempted  to  go  wrong,  anyways  —  and  a 
business  life  is  full  of  temptations — let  me  put  the 
case  before  you,  and  have  you  set  me  right.  I  won't 
want  but  a  word  from  you,  and  most  part  of  the  time, 
I  shall  just  want  to  free  my  mind  to  you  on  life  in 
general,  and  won't  expect  any  answer.  I  feel  as  if 
you  had  got  my  soul  in  your  hands,  and  you  could  save 
it,  or  throw  it  away.  That  is  all.  I  am  writing  on 
the  train,  and  I  have  to  use  pencil.  I  hope  you'll  ex 
cuse  the  stationery  ;  it's  all  the  porter  could  get  me, 
and  I'm  anxious  to  have  a  letter  go  back  to  you  at 
once.  I  know  your  mother  has  written  to  you,  and  I 
want  to  corroborate  everything  she  says  against  me." 
The  letter  covered  half-a-dozen  telegraph  blanks, 


256  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

and  filled  them  full,  so  that  the  diffident  suggestion, 
"  My  permanent  address  is  with  Gates  &  Clarkson," 
had  to  be  written  along  the  side  of  the  first  page. 

The  low  cunning,  the  impudent  hypocrisy,  the  leer 
ing  pretence  of  reverence,  the  affectation  of  penitence, 
the  whole  fraudulent  design,  so  flimsy  that  the  writer 
himself  seemed  to  be  mocking  at  it,  was  open  to  Cor 
nelia,  and  she  read  the  letter  through  with  distinct 
relief.  Whatever  the  fascinations  of  Mr.  Dickerson 
were  when  he  was  personally  at  hand,  he  had  none  at 
a  distance,  and  when  she  ran  over  the  pages  a  second 
time,  it  was  with  a  laugh,  which  she  felt  sure  he  would 
have  joined  her  in,  if  he  had  been  there.  It  turned 
her  tragedy  into  farce  so  completely,  for  the  time,  that 
she  went  through  her  morning's  work  with  a  pleasure 
and  a  peace  of  mind  which  she  had  not  felt  for  many 
days.  It  really  seemed  such  a  joke,  that  she  almost 
yielded  to  the  temptation  of  showing  passages  of  the 
letter  to  Charmian  ;  and  she  forebore  only  because 
she  would  have  had  to  tell  more  than  she  cared  to 
have  any  one  know  of  Mr.  Dickerson,  if  she  did. 
She  had  a  right  to  keep  all  that  from  those  who  had 
no  right  to  know  it,  but  she  had  no  right,  or  if  she 
had  the  right,  she  had  not  the  power  to  act  as  if  the 
past  had  never  been.  She  set  herself  to  bear  what 


THE   COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  257 

was  laid  upon  her,  and  if  she  was  ever  to  have  strength 
for  her  burden  she  must  begin  by  owning  her  weakness. 
There  was  no  one  to  whom  she  could  own  it  but  her 
mother,  and  she  did  this  fully  as  soon  as  she  got  back 
to  her  room,  and  could  sit  down  to  answer  her  letter. 
She  enclosed  Dickerson's,  and  while  she  did  not  spare 
him,  she  took  the  whole  blame  upon  herself,  for  she 
said  she  might  have  known  that  if  she  suffered  him  to 
see  that  he  amused  her  or  pleased  her  at  all,  he  was 
impudent  enough  to  think  that  he  could  make  her  like 
him  again.  "  And  mother,"  she  wrote.  "  you  know  I 
never  really  liked  him,  and  was  only  too  glad  to  get  rid 
of  him ;  you  know  that  much.  But  I  suppose  you 
will  wonder,  then,  why  I  ever  let  him  speak  to  me  if 
I  really  despised  him  as  much  as  ever ;  and  that  is  not 
easy  to  explain.  For  one  thing  he  was  with  Mrs. 
Montgomery,  and  she  likes  him,  and  she  has  always 
been  so  good  to  me  that  I  hated  to  treat  him  badly 
before  her  ;  but  that  is  not  the  real  reason,  and  I  am 
not  going  to  pretend  it  was.  You  know  yourself  how 
funny  he  is,  and  can  make  you  laugh  in  spite  of  your 
self,  but  it  was  not  that,  either.  It  was  because  I 
was  angry  with  myself  for  having  been  angry  with 
some  one  else,  without  a  cause,  as  I  can  see  it  now, 

and  I  had  made  a  fool  of  myself,  and  I  wanted  to  get 
17 


258  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

away  from  myself.  I  cannot  tell  you  just  how  it  was, 
yet,  and  I  do  not  know  as  I  ever  can,  but  that  was 
truly  it,  and  nothing  else,  though  the  other  things  had 
something  to  do  with  it.  I  suppose  it  was  just  like 
men  when  they  take  a  drink  of  whiskey  to  make  them 
forget.  The  worst  of  it  all  is,  and  the  discouraging 
part  is,  that  it  shows  me  I  have  not  changed  a  particle. 
My  temper  is  just  as  bad  as  ever,  and  I  might  as  well 
be  back  at  sixteen,  for  all  the  sense  I've  got.  Some 
times  it  seems  to  me  that  the  past  is  all  there  is  of  us, 
anyway.  It  seems  to  come  up  in  me,  all  the  time, 
and  I  am  so  ashamed  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I 
make  all  kinds  of  good  resolutions,  and  I  want  to 
be  good,  and  then  comes  something  and  it  is  all  over 
with  me.  Then,  it  appears  as  if  it  was  not  me,  alto 
gether,  that  is  to  blame.  I  know  I  was  to  blame,  this 
last  time,  laughing  at  that  little  '  scrub's '  jokes  as 
you  call  him,  and  behaving  like  a  fool ;  but  I  don't  see 
how  I  was  to  blame  for  his  coming  back  into  my  life, 
when  I  never  really  wanted  him  at  all,  and  certainly 
never  wished  to  set  eyes  on  him  again. 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  would  be  the  least  use  to  ask 
you  not  to  show  this  letter  to  Mrs.  Burton,  and  I 
won't,  but  if  you  do,  I  wish  you  would  ask  her  what 
she  thinks  it  means,  and  whether  it's  fate,  or  foreordina- 
tion,  or  what." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  259 

Mrs.  Saunders  carried  Cornelia's  letter  to  Mrs.  Bur 
ton,  as  Cornelia  had  foreseen,  but  the  question  she 
put  to  her  was  not  the  abstraction  the  girl  had  sug 
gested.  "  Mrs.  Burton,"  she  asked,  "  who  was  it  do 
you  suppose  Nic  was  so  mad  with  that  she  had  to  go 
off  and  play  the  fool,  that  way  ?  " 

Mrs.  Burton  passed  the  point  of  casuistry  too. 
"  Well,  of  course  I  don't  know,  Mrs.  Saunders.  Has 
she  said  anything  about  Mr.  Ludlow  lately  ?  " 

"  No,  she  hain't  said  a  word,  and  that  seems  sus 
picious.  She  said  a  week  or  two  ago  that  he  had  give 
up  trying  to  paint  that  Maybough  girl,  and  that  she 
guessed  she  had  got  the  last  of  her  lessons  from  him ; 
but  she  didn't  seem  much  troubled  about  it.  But  I 
guess  by  her  not  wantin'  to  tell,  it's  him.  What  do 
you  suppose  he  did  to  provoke  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  just  some  young  people's  nonsense,  probably. 
It'll  come  all  right.  You  needn't  worry  about  it,  be 
cause  if  it  won't  come  right  of  itself,  he'll  make  it 
come." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  worrying  about  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Saunders,  "  I'm  worrying  about  this."  She  gave  her 
the  letter  Cornelia  had  enclosed,  and  as  Mrs.  Burton 
began  to  read  it  she  said,  "  If  that  fellow  keeps  on 
writing  to  her,  I  don't  know  what  I  will  do." 


XXX. 

COM  to  see  Qnefia.  !•*  tkej  mti. 
aft  KB.  WcalkjX  •km  ke 

JUMIB;  •(  fcor  koig  laAcr  takoB  '•p;  aft  Mi*. 

Bad  A  !••  Jatftr  to  show 
i  widi  CfcunBBaa's  poctonrc.  so  as  to  kelp 


tihmv  a>  fillfe 

QE    MR  JBBB    tfcdlt    •£  H^^mt     l»Bfcl   kflT 

'     --L- . 

i  •HUBB 


tkatker 

pnvattmi  nat  surpassed 
He   ImuiMul  •Boacr  of 


flat  heAoaM  eicr  ke  akle  to  pay  it  kaek.    He 


TIDE 


Or 


j  of  Coroe&u  ad  they  got 


ideal  ke  •nrfaFJ  js  ever; 


percetred  to  IK  dbaft  of 

ShedU  Bocnsverthe  letter  Ae  im  got,  MT  ; 
of  dwee 
eftxtof 


262  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

that  Thursday  of  Mrs.  Westley's,  and  she  had  too 
keen  a  sense  of  having  been  a  fool  not  to  wish  to  act 
more  wisely  as  soon  as  she  could  forget.  There  came 
so  long  a  lapse  between  the  letters  of  Mr.  Dickerson 
that  he  ceased,  at  least  perpetually,  to  haunt  her 
thoughts.  She  had  moments  when  it  seemed  as  if  she 
might  justly  consent  to  be  happy  again,  or  at  least 
allow  herself  to  enjoy  the  passing  pleasure  of  the  time 
without  blame.  She  even  suffered  herself  to  fancy 
taking  up  the  picture  of  Charmian,  and  carrying  it 
farther  under  Ludlow's  criticism.  She  was  very  ambi 
tious  to  try  her  fate  with  the  Academy,  and  when  he 
offered  so  generously  to  help  her  again,  as  if  she  had 
not  refused  him  once  so  rudely,  she  could  not  deny 
him.  She  found  herself  once  more  in  Charmian's 
studio,  and  it  all  began  to  go  on  the  same  as  if  it  had 
never  stopped.  It  seemed  like  a  dream,  sometimes, 
when  she  thought  about  it,  and  it  did  not  seem  like  a 
very  wise  dream.  Cornelia  now  wished,  above  all 
things,  to  have  a  little  bit  of  sense,  as  she  phrased  it 
in  her  thoughts ;  and  she  was  aware  that  the  present 
position  of  affairs  might  look  rather  crazy  to  some 
people.  The  best  excuse  for  it  was  that  it  would  have 
looked  crazier  yet  if  she  had  refused  such  an  opportu 
nity  simply  because  of  the  circumstances.  She  began 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  263 

to  be  a  little  vague  about  the  circumstances,  and 
whether  they  were  queer  because  she  had  fancied  a 
likeness  of  herself  in  Mr.  Ludlow's  picture  of  Char- 
mian,  or  because  she  had  afterwards  made  a  fool  of 
herself  so  irreparably  as  to  be  unworthy  Mr.  Ludlow's 
kindness. 

If  it  was  merely  kindness,  and  she  was  the  object  of 
charity,  it  was  all  right ;  she  could  accept  it  on  those 
terms.  She  even  tempted  him  to  patronize  her,  but 
when  he  ventured  upon  something  elderly  and  paternal 
in  his  monitions,  she  resented  it  so  fiercely  that  she 
was  astonished  and  ashamed.  There  was  an  inconsis 
tency  in  it  all  that  was  perplexing,  but  not  so  perplex 
ing  as  to  spoil  the  pleasure  of  it. 

There  were  not  sittings  every  day,  now ;  Ludlow 
came  once  or  twice  a  week,  and  criticised  her  work ; 
sometimes  he  struck  off  a  sketch  himself,  in  illustration 
of  a  point,  and  these  sketches  were  now  so  unlike 
Cornelia,  and  so  wholly  like  Charmian,  that  when  he 
left  them  for  her  guidance,  she  studied  them  with  a  re 
mote  ache  in  her  heart.  "Never  mind,"  Charmian 
consoled  her  once,  "  he  just  does  it  on  purpose." 

"  Does  what  ?  "  Cornelia  demanded  awfully. 

"  Oh,  nothing !  " 

One  of  the  sketches  he  fancied  so  much  that  he  be- 


264  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

gan  to  carry  it  forward.  He  worked  at  it  whenever 
he  came,  and  under  his  hand  it  grew  an  idealized 
Charmian,  in  which  her  fantastic  quality  expressed  it 
self  as  high  imagination,  and  her  formless  generosity 
as  a  wise  and  noble  magnanimity. 

She  made  fun  of  it  when  they  were  alone,  but  Cor 
nelia  could  see  that  she  was  secretly  proud  of  having 
inspired  it,  and  that  she  did  not  really  care  for  the  con 
stant  portrait  which  Cornelia  had  been  faithfully  finish 
ing  up,  while  Ludlow  changed  and  experimented, 
though  Charmian  praised  her  to  his  disadvantage. 

One  day  he  said  he  had  carried  his  picture  as  far  as 
he  could,  and  he  should  let  it  go  at  that.  It  seemed  an 
end  of  their  pleasant  days  together ;  the  two  girls  agreed 
that  now  there  could  be  no  further  excuse  for  their 
keeping  on,  and  Cornelia  wondered  how  she  could  let 
him  know  that  she  understood.  That  evening  he  came 
to  call  on  her  at  Mrs.  Montgomery's,  and  before  he  sat 
down  he  began  to  say :  "  I  want  to  ask  your  advice, 
Miss  Saunders,  about  what  I  shall  do  with  my  sketch 
of  Miss  Maybough." 

Cornelia  blenched,  for  no  reason  that  she  could 
think  of ;  she  could  not  gasp  out  the  "  Yes  "  that  she 
tried  to  utter. 

"  You  see,"  he  went  on,  "  I  know  that  I've  disap- 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  265 

pointed  Mrs.  Maybough,  and  I'd  like  to  make  her 
some  sort  of  reparation,  but  I  can't  offer  her  the 
sketch  instead  of  the  portrait ;  if  she  liked  it  she 
would  want  to  pay  for  it,  and  I  can't  take  money  for 
it.  So  I've  thought  of  giving  the  sketch  to  Miss  May- 
bough." 

He  looked  at  Cornelia,  now,  for  the  advice  he  had 
asked,  but  she  did  not  speak,  and  he  had  to  say :  "  But 
I  don't  know  whether  she  likes  it  or  not.  Do  you 
know  whether  she  does  ?  Has  she  ever  spoken  of  it 
to  you?  Of  course  she's  said  civil  things  to  me 
about  it.  I  beg  your  pardon !  I  suppose  you  don't 
care  to  tell,  and  I  had  no  right  to  inquire." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  yes." 

"Well?" 

"  I  know  she  likes  it ;  she  must." 

"  But  she  hasn't  said  so  ?  " 

"Not  —  exactly." 

"  Then  what  makes  you  think  she  does  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Any  one  would.  It's  very  beauti 
ful."  Cornelia  spoke  very  dryly,  very  coldly. 

"  But  is  it  a  likeness  ?  Is  it  she  ?  Her  character  ? 
What  do  you  think  of  it  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  can  say  "  — 

"  Ah,  I  see  you  don't  like  it ! "  said  Ludlow,  with 


266  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMTA. 

an  air  of  disappointment.  "And  yet  1  aimed  at 
pleasing  you  in  it." 

"  At  pleasing  me  ?  "  she  murmured  thickly  back. 

"  Yes,  you.  I  tried  to  see  her  as  you  do  ;  to  do  her 
justice,  and  if  it  is  overdone,  or  nattered,  or  idealized, 
it  is  because  I've  been  working  toward  your  notion  "  — 

"  Oh !  "  said  Cornelia,  and  then,  to  the  great  amaze 
ment  of  herself  as  well  as  Ludlow,  she  began  to  laugh, 
and  she  laughed  on,  with  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 
When  she  took  her  handkerchief  down,  her  eyes  looked 
strange,  but  she  asked,  with  a  sort  of  radiance,  "  And 
did  you  think  I  thought  Charmian  was  really  like 
that?" 

"  Why,  I  didn't  know  —  You've  been  very  severe 
with  me  when  I've  suggested  she  wasn't.  At  first, 
when  I  wanted  to  do  her  as  Humbug,  you  wouldn't 
stand  it,  and  now,  when  I've  done  her  as  Mystery,  you 
laugh." 

Cornelia  pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her  shining 
eyes,  and  laughed  a  little  more.  "That  is  because 
she  isn't  either.  Can't  you  understand  ?  "  j 

"  I  could  understand  her  being  both,  I  think.  Don't 
you  think  she's  a  little  of  both  ?  " 

"I  told  you,"  said  Cornelia  gravely,  "that  I  didn't 
like  to  talk  Charmian  over." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  267 

"  That  was  a  good  while  ago.  I  didn't  know  but 
you  might,  by  this  time." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked.     "  Am  I  so  changeable  ?  " 

"  No ;  you're  the  one  constant  and  steadfast  creat 
ure  in  a  world  of  variableness.  I  didn't  really 
expect  that.  I  know  that  I  can  always  find  you 
where  I  left  you.  You  are  the  same  as  when  I  first 
saw  you." 

It  seemed  to  Cornelia  that  she  had  been  asking  him 
to  praise  her,  and  she  was  not  going  to  have  that. 
"  Do  you  mean  that  I  behave  as  badly  as  I  did  in  the 
Fair  House  ?  No  wonder  you  treat  me  like  a  child." 
This  was  not  at  all  what  she  meant  to  say,  however, 
and  was  worse  than  what  she  had  said  before. 

"  No,"  he  answered  seriously.  "  I  meant  that  you 
are  not  capricious,  and  I  hate  caprice.  But  do  I  treat 
you  like  a  child  ?  " 

"  Sometimes,"  said  Cornelia,  looking  down  and 
feeling  silly. 

"  I  am  very  sorry.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me 
how." 

She  had  not  expected  this  pursuit,  and  she  flashed 
back,  "  You  are  doing  it  now !  You  wouldn't  say  that 
to  —  to  —  any  one  else." 

Ludlow  paused    thoughtfully.     Then    he    said,  "I 


268  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

seem  to  treat  myself  like  a  child  when  I  am  with  you. 
Perhaps  that's  what  displeases  you.  Well,  I  can't 
help  that.  It  is  because  you  are  so  true  that  I  can't 
keep  up  the  conventions  with  you."  They  were  both 
silent ;  Cornelia  was  trying  to  think  what  she  should 
say,  and  he  added,  irrelevantly,  "If  you  don't  like 
that  sketch  of  her,  I  won't  give  it  to  her." 

"  I  ?  What  have  I  to  do  with  it  ?  "  She  did  not 
know  what  they  were  talking  about,  or  to  what  end. 
"  Yes,  you  must  give  it  to  her.  I  know  she  wants  it. 
And  I  know  how  kind  you  are,  and  good.  I  didn't 
mean  —  I  didn't  wish  to  blame  you  —  I  don't  know 
why  I'm  making  such  a  perfect  fool  of  myself." 

She  had  let  him  have  her  hand  somehow,  and  he 
was  keeping  it ;  but  they  had  both  risen. 

"  May  I  stay  a  moment  ?  "  he  entreated. 

No  one  thing  now  seemed  more  inconsequent  than 
another,  and  Cornelia  answered,  with  a  catching  of 
her  breath,  but  as  if  it  quite  followed,  "  Why,  cer 
tainly,"  and  they  both  sat  down  again. 

"  There  is  something  I  wish  to  tell  —  to  speak  of," 
he  began.  "I  think  it's  what  you  mean.  In  my 
picture  of  Miss  May  bough  " — 

"  I  didn't  mean  that  at  all.  That  doesn't  make  any 
difference  to  me,"  she  broke  incoherently  in  upon  him. 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  269 

"  I  didn't  care  for  it.  You  can  do  what  you  please 
with  it." 

He  looked  at  her  in  a  daze  while  she  spoke.  "  Oh," 
he  said,  "  I  am  very  stupid.  I  didn't  mean  this  sketch 
of  mine ;  I  don't  care  for  that,  now.  I  meant  that  other 
picture  of  her  —  the  last  one  —  the  one  I  painted  out 
before  I  gave  up  painting  her —  Did  you  see  that  it 
was  like  you  ?  " 

Cornelia  felt  that  he  was  taking  an  advantage  of 
her,  and  she  lifted  her  eyes  indignantly.  "  Mr. 
Ludlow!" 

"  Ah !  Don't  think  that"  he  pleaded,  and  she 
knew  that  he  meant  her  unexpressed  sense  of  unfair 
ness  in  him.  "  I  know  you  saw  it ;  and  the  likeness 
was  there  because  —  I  wanted  to  tell  you  long  ago, 
but  I  couldn't,  because  when  we  met  afterwards  I 
was  afraid  that  I  was  mistaken  in  what  I  thought  — 
hoped.  I  had  no  right  to  know  anything  till  I  was 
sure  of  myself ;  but  —  the  picture  was  like  you  be 
cause  you  were  all  the  time  in  my  thoughts,  and 
nothing  and  no  one  but  you.  Cornelia  " —  She  rose  up 
crazily,  and  looked  toward  the  door,  as  if  she  were 
going  to  run  out  of  the  room.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  he  im 
plored.  "  You  know  I  love  you." 

"  Let  me  go  !  "  she  panted. 


270  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

"  If  you  tell  me  you  don't  care  for  me  "  — 

"  I  don't !     I  don't  care  for  you,  and  —  let  me  go !  " 

He  stood  flushed  and  scared  before  her.     "I I 

am  sorry.  I  didn't  mean  —  I  hoped  —  But  it  is  all 
right  —  I  mean  you  are  right,  and  I  am  wrong.  I  am 
very  wrong." 


XXXI. 

LUDLOW  stood  aside  and  Cornelia  escaped.  When 
she  reached  her  own  room,  she  had  a  sense  of  her 
failure  to  take  formal  leave  of  him,  and  she  mechani 
cally  blamed  herself  for  that  before  she  blamed  herself 
for  anything  else.  At  first  he  was  altogether  to 
blame,  and  she  heaped  the  thought  of  him  with  wild 
reproach  and  injury ;  if  she  had  behaved  like  a  fool, 
it  was  because  she  was  trapped  into  it,  and  could  not 
help  it ;  she  had  to  do  so.  She  recalled  distinctly, 
amidst  the  turmoil,  how  she  had  always  kept  in  mind 
that  a  girl  who  had  once  let  a  man,  like  that  dreadful 
little  wretch,  whose  name  she  could  not  take  into  her 
consciousness,  suppose  that  she  could  care  for  him, 
could  not  let  a  man  like  Ludlow  care  for  her.  If  she 
did,  she  was  wicked,  and  she  knew  she  had  not  done 
it  for  she  had  been  on  her  guard  against  it.  The 
reasoning  was  perfect,  and  if  he  had  spoiled  every 
thing  now,  he  had  himself  to  thank  for  it ;  and  she 
did  not  pity  him.  Still  she  wished  she  had  not  run 


272  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

out  of  the  room ;  she  wished  she  had  behaved  with 
more  dignity,  and  not  been  rude  ;  he  could  laugh  at 
her  for  that ;  it  was  like  her  behavior  with  him  from 
the  very  beginning  ;  there  was  something  in  him  that 
always  made  her  behave  badly  with  him,  like  a 
petulant  child.  He  would  be  glad  to  forget  her ;  he 
would  believe,  now,  that  she  was  not  good  enough  for 
him ;  and  he  might  laugh ;  but  at  least  he  could  not 
say  that  she  had  ever  done  or  said  the  least  thing  to 
let  him  suppose  that  she  cared  for  him.  If  she  had, 
she  should  not  forgive  herself,  and  she  should  pity 
him  as  much  as  she  blamed  him  now.  There  was 
nothing  in  her  whole  conduct  that  would  have  war 
ranted  her  in  supposing  such  a  thing,  if  she  were  a 
man.  Cornelia  had  this  comfort,  and  she  clung  to  it, 
till  it  flashed  through  her  that  not  being  a  man,  she 
could  not  imagine  what  the  things  were  that  could  let 
a  man  suppose  it.  She  had  never  thought  of  that 
before,  and  it  dazed  her.  Perhaps  he  had  seen  all 
along  that  she  did  care  for  him,  that  he  had  known  it 
in  some  way  unknown  and  forever  unknowable  to  her ; 
the  way  a  man  knows  ;  and  all  her  disguises  had 
availed  nothing  against  him.  Then,  if  he  had  known, 
he  had  acted  very  deceitfully  and  very  wrongfully,  and 
nothing  could  excuse  him  unless  there  had  been  other 


THE    COAST   OP   BOHEMIA.  273 

signs  that  a  girl  would  recognize,  too.  That  would 
excuse  him,  it  would  justify  him,  and  she  tried  to  see 
the  affair  with  another  woman's  eyes.  She  tried  to  see 
it  with  Charmian's  eyes,  but  she  knew  they  were  filled 
with  a  romantic  iridescence  that  danced  before  them 
and  wrapt  it  in  a  rainbow  mist.  Then  she  tried  Mrs. 
Westley's  eyes,  which  she  knew  were  friendly  to  both 
Ludlow  and  herself,  and  she  told  her  everything  in 
her  impassioned  revery  :  all  about  that  little  wretch  4 
all  about  the  first  portrait  of  Charmian  and  the  like 
ness  they  had  seen  in  it ;  all  about  what  had  happened 
since  Ludlow  began  to  criticise  her  work  again.  In 
the  mere  preparation  for  this  review  she  found  an 
other's  agency  insufferable ;  she  abandoned  herself 
wildly  to  a  vision  which  burned  itself  upon  her  in  mass 
and  detail,  under  a  light  that  searched  motive  and 
conduct  alike,  and  left  her  no  refuge  from  the  truth. 
Then  she  perceived,  how  at  every  moment  since  they 
began  those  last  lessons  at  Charmain's  he  must  have 
believed  she  cared  for  him  and  wished  him  to  care  for 
her.  If  she  had  not  seen  it  too,  it  was  because  she 
was  stupid,  and  she  was  to  blame  all  the  same. 
She  was  blind  to  what  he  saw  in  her,  and  she  had 
thought  because  she  was  hidden  from  herself  that  she 

was  hidden  from  him. 
18 


274  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

It  was  not  a  question  now  of  whether  she  cared  for 
him,  or  not ;  that  was  past  all  question ;  but  whether 
she  had  not  led  him  on  to  think  she  did,  and  she  owned 
that  down  to  the  last  moment  before  he  had  spoken, 
wittingly  or  unwittingly  she  had  coaxed  him  to  praise 
her,  to  console  her,  to  make  love  to  her.  She  was 
rightly  punished,  and  she  was  ready  to  suffer,  but  she 
could  not  let  him  suffer  the  shame  of  thinking  himself 
wrong.  That  was  mean,  that  was  cowardly,  and  what 
ever  she  was,  Cornelia  was  not  base,  and  not  afraid. 
She  would  have  been  willing  to  follow  him  into  the 
night,  to  go  to  his  door,  and  knock  at  it,  and  when  he 
came,  flash  out  at  him,  "  I  did  love  you,  I  do  love 
you,"  and  then  run,  she  did  not  know  where,  but 
somewhere  out  of  the  world.  But  he  might  not  be 
there,  or  some  one  else  might  come  to  the  door ;  the 
crude,  material  difficulties  denied  her  the  fierce  joy  of 
this  exploit,  but  she  could  not  rest  (she  should  never 
really  rest  again)  till  she  had  done  the  nearest  thing 
to  it  that  she  could.  She  looked  at  the  little  busy-bee 
clock  ticking  away  on  her  bureau  and  saw  that  it  was 
half-past  eleven  o'clock,  and  that  there  was  no  time  to 
lose,  and  she  sat  down  and  wrote :  "  I  did  care  for 
you.  But  I  can  never  see  you  again.  I  cannot  tell 
you  the  reason." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  275 

She  drew  a  deep  breath  when  the  thing  was  done, 
and  hurried  the  scrap  unsigned  into  an  envelope  and 
addressed  it  to  Ludlow.  She  was  in  a  frenzy  till  she 
could  get  it  out  of  her  hands  and  into  the  postal-box 
beyond  recall.  She  pulled  a  shawl  over  her  head 
and  flew  down  stairs  and  out  of  the  door  into  the 
street  toward  the  postal-box  on  the  corner.  But  be 
fore  she  reached  it  she  thought  of  a  special-delivery 
stamp,  which  should  earry  the  letter  to  Ludlow  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning,  and  she  pushed  on  to  the 
druggist's  at  the  corner  beyond  to  get  it.  She  was 
aware  of  the  man  staring  at  her,  as  if  she  had  asked 
for  arsenic ;  and  she  supposed  she  must  have  looked 
strange.  This  did  not  come  into  her  mind  till  she 
found  herself  again  at  Mrs.  Montgomery's  door,  where 
she  stood  in  a  panic  ecstasy  at  having  got  rid  of  the 
letter,  which  the  special  stamp  seemed  to  make  still 
more  irrevocable,  and  tried  to  fit  her  night-latch  into 
the  lock.  The  cat,  which  had  been  shut  out,  crept  up 
from  the  area,  and  rubbed  with  a  soft  insinuation 
against  her  skirt.  She  gave  a  little  shriek  of  terror, 
and  the  door  was  suddenly  pulled  open  from  within. 

She  threw  back  her  shawl  from  her  head,  and  under 
the  low-burning  gas-light  held  aloft  by  the  spelter 
statuette  in  the  newel  post,  she  confronted  Mr.  Dick- 


276  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

erson.  He  had  his  hat  on,  and  had  the  air  of  just 
having  let  himself  in  ;  his  gripsack  stood  at  his  feet. 

"  Why,  Nelie  !  Miss  Saunders !  Is  that  you  ? 
Why,  where  in  the  world  —  Well,  this  is  something 
like  '  Willy,  we  have  missed  you  ' ;  I've  just  come. 
What  was  the  matter  out  there  ?  Somebody  trying 
to  scare  you  ?  Well,  there's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of 
now,  anyway.  How  you  do  pant !  But  it  becomes 
you.  Yes,  it  does  !  You  look  now  just  like  I've  seen 
you  all  the  time  I've  been  gone !  You  didn't  answer 
any  of  my  letters ;  I  don't  know  as  I  could  have  ex 
pected  any  different.  But  I  did  hope  —  Nelie,  it's  no 
use !  I've  got  to  speak  out,  and  it's  now  or  never ; 
maybe  there  won't  be  another  chance.  Look  here, 
my  girl !  I  want  you  —  I  love  you,  Nic !  and  I 
always  d  "  — 

He  had  got  her  hand,  and  he  was  drawing  her 
toward  him.  She  struggled  to  free  herself,  but  he 
pulled  her  closer. 

Her  heart  swelled  with  a  fury  of  grief  for  all  she 
had  suffered  and  lost  through  him.  She  thought  of 
what  her  mother  had  said  she  ought  to  do  if  he  ever 
spoke  to  her  again  ;  there  came  without  her  agency, 
almost,  three  swift,  sharp,  electrical  blows  from  the 
hand  she  had  freed  ;  she  saw  him  reeling  backward 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  277 

with  his  hand  at  his  face,  and  then  she  was  standing  in 
her  own  room,  looking  at  her  ghost  in  the  glass. 

Now,  if  Mr.  Ludlow  knew,  he  would  surely  de 
spise  her,  and  she  wished  she  were  dead  indeed :  not 
so  much  because  she  had  boxed  Dickerson's  ears  as 
because  she  had  done  what  obliged  her  to  do  it. 


XXXII. 

IT  is  bard  for  the  young  to  understand  that  the 
world  which  seems  to  stop  with  their  disaster  is  going 
on  with  smooth  indifference,  and  that  a  little  time  will 
carry  them  so  far  from  any  fateful  event  that  when 
they  gather  courage  to  face  it  they  will  find  it  curi 
ously  shrunken  in  the  perspective.  Nothing  really 
stops  the  world  but  death,  and  that  only  for  the  dead. 
If  we  live,  we  must  move  on,  we  must  change,  we 
must  outwear  every  motion,  however  poignant  or  deep. 
Cornelia's  shame  failed  to  kill  her ;  she  woke  the  next 
morning  with  a  self-loathing  that  seemed  even  greater 
than  that  of  the  night  before,  but  it  was  actually  less ; 
and  it  yielded  to  the  strong  will  which  she  brought  to 
bear  upon  herself.  She  went  to  her  work  at  the  Syn 
thesis  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  she  kept  at  it 
with  a  hard,  mechanical  faithfulness  which  she  found 
the  more  possible,  perhaps,  because  Charmian  was  not 
there,  for  some  reason,  and  she  had  not  her  sympathy 
as  well  as  her  own  weakness  to  manage.  She  sur 
prised  herself  with  the  results  of  her  pitiless  industry, 


THE   COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  279 

and  realized  for  the  first  time  the  mysterious  duality 
of  being,  in  the  power  of  the  brain  and  the  hand  to 
toil  while  the  heart  aches. 

She  was  glad,  she  kept  assuring  herself,  that  she 
had  put  an  end  to  all  hope  from  Ludlow ;  she  rejoiced 
bitterly  that  now,  however  she  had  disgraced  herself 
in  her  violent  behavior,  she  had  at  least  disgraced  no 
one  else.  No  one  else  could  suffer  through  any  claim 
upon  her,  or  kindness  for  her,  or  had  any  right  to  feel 
ashamed  of  her  or  injured  by  her.  But  Cornelia  was 
at  the  same  time  puzzled  and  perplexed  with  herself, 
and  dismayed  with  the  slightness  of  her  hold  upon 
impulses  of  hers  which  she  thought  she  had  over 
come  and  bound  forever.  She  made  the  discovery, 
which  she  was  yet  far  too  young  to  formulate,  that 
she  had  a  temperament  to  deal  with  that  could  at  any 
time  shake  to  ruins  the  character  she  had  so  carefully 
built  upon  it,  and  had  so  wholly  mistaken  for  herself. 
In  the  midst  of  this  dismay  she  made  another  discovery, 
and  this  was  that  perhaps  even  her  temperament  was 
not  what  she  had  believed  it,  but  was  still  largely  un 
known  to  her.  She  had  always  known  that  she  was 
quick 'and  passionate,  but  she  certainly  had  not  sup 
posed  that  she  was  capable  of  the  meanness  of  wonder 
ing  whether  Mr.  Ludlow  would  take  her  note  as  less 


280  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

final  than  she  had  meant  it,  and  would  perhaps  seek 
some  explanation  of  it.  No  girl  that  she  ever  heard 
or  read  of,  had  ever  fallen  quite  so  low  as  to  hope  that ; 
but  was  not  she  hoping  just  that  ?  Perhaps  she  had 
even  written  those  words  with  the  tacit  intention  of 
calling  him  back  !  But  this  conjecture  was  the  mere 
play  of  a  morbid  fancy,  and  weak  as  she  was,  Cornelia 
had  the  strength  to  forbid  it  and  deny  it. 

At  the  end  of  the  afternoon,  she  pretended  that  she 
ought  to  go  and  see  what  had  happened  to  Charmian, 
and  on  the  way,  she  had  time  to  recognize  her  own  hy 
pocrisy,  and  to  resolve  that  she  would  do  penance  for 
it  by  coming  straight  at  the  true  reason  of  her  errand. 
She  was  sent  to  Charmian  in  her  studio,  and  she 
scarcely  gave  her  a  chance  to  explain  that  she  had 
staid  at  home  on  account  of  a  cold,  and  had  written  a 
note  for  Cornelia  to  come  to  dinner  with  her,  which 
she  would  find  when  she  got  back. 

Cornelia  said,  "  I  want  to  tell  you  something,  Char 
mian,  and  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  you  really 
think  —  whether  I've  done  right,  or  not." 

Charmian's  eyes  lightened.  "  Wait  a  moment !  " 
She  got  a  piece  of  the  lightwood,  and  put  it  on  the  fire 
which  she  had  kindled  on  the  hearth  to  keep  the 
spring  chill  off,  and  went  and  turned  Ludlow's  sketch 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  281 

of  herself  to  the  wall.  "  I  know  it's  about  him." 
Then  she  came  and  crouched  on  the  tiger-skin  at  Cor 
nelia's  feet,  and  clasped  her  hands  around  her  knees, 
and  fixed  her  averted  face  on  the  blazing  pine.  "  Now 
go  on,"  she  said,  as  if  she  had  arranged  the  pose  to 
her  perfect  satisfaction. 

Cornelia  went  on.  "  It's  about  him,  and  it's  about 
some  one  else,  too,"  and  she  had  no  pity  on  herself 
in  telling  Charmian  all  about  that  early,  shabby  affair 
with  Dickerson. 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  Charmian,  with  a  sigh  of  utter 
content,  "I  told  you,  the  first  time  I  saw  you,  that 
you  had  lived.  Well :  and  has  he  —  turned  up  ?  " 

"  He  has  turned  up  —  three  times,"  said  Cornelia. 

Charmian  shivered  with  enjoyment  of  the  romantic 
situation.  She  reached  a  hand  behind  her  and  tried  to 
clutch  one  of  Cornelia's  but  had  to  get  on  without  it. 
u  And  well :  have  they  met  ?  " 

"  No,  they  haven't,"  said  Cornelia  crossly,  but  not 
so  much  with  Charmian  as  with  the  necessity  she  was 
now  In  of  telling  her  about  her  last  meeting  with 
Ludlow.  She  began,  "  They  almost  did,"  and  when 
Charmian  in  the  intensity  of  her  interest  could  not 
keep  turning  around  to  stare  at  her,  Cornelia  took  hold 
of  her  head  and  turned  her  face  toward  the  fire  again. 


282  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

Then  she  went  on  to  tell  how  it  had  all  happened. 
She  did  not  spare  herself  at  any  point,  and  she  ended 
the  story  with  the  expression  of  her  belief  that  she  had 
deserved  it  all.  "  It  wasn't  boxing  that  little  wretch's 
ears  that  was  the  disgrace  ;  it  was  having  brought  my 
self  to  where  I  had  to  box  them." 

"  Yes,  that  was  it,"  sighed  Charmian,  with  deep 
conviction. 

"And  I  had  to  tell  him  that  I  could  never  care  for 
him,  because  I  couldn't  bear  to  tell  him  what  a  fool  I 
had  been." 

"  No,  no  ;  you  never  could  do  that !  " 

"  And  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  him  think  I  was  better 
than  I  really  was,  or  let  him  care  for  me  unless  I  told 
him  all  about  that  miserable  old  affair." 

"  No,  you  couldn't,  Cornelia,"  said  Charmian  sol 
emnly.  "  Some  girls  might ;  most  girls  would.  They 
would  just  consider  it  a  flirtation,  and  not  say  any 
thing  about  it,  or  not  till  after  they  were  engaged,  and 
then  just  laugh.  But  you  are  different  from  other 
girls  —  you  are  so  true  !  Yes,  you  would  have  to  tell 
it  if  it  killed  you ;  I  can  see  that ;  and  you  couldn't 
tell  it,  and  you  had  to  break  his  heart.  Yes,  you  had 
to!" 

"  Oh,  Charmian  Maybough !    How  cruel  you  are !  " 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  283 

Cornelia  flung  herself  forward  and  cried ;  Charmian 
whirled  round,  and  kneeling  before  her,  threw  her 
arms  around  her,  in  a  pose  of  which  she  felt  the  per 
fection,  and  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"  Why  didn't  you  let  me  see  how  you  were  looking  ? 
How  I  have  gone  on  "  — 

Cornelia  pulled  herself  loose.  "  Charmian !  Do 
you  dare  to  mean  that  I  want  him  to  ever  speak  to 
me  again  —  or  look  at  me  ?  " 

«  No,  no  "  — 

"  Or  that  I'm  sorry  I  did  it  ?  " 

"  No  ;  it's  this  cold  that's  making  me  so  stupid." 

"  If  he  were  to  come  back  again  this  instant,  I 
should  have  to  tell  him  just  the  same,  or  else  tell  him 
about  that  —  that  —  and  you  know  I  couldn't  do  that 
if  I  lived  a  thousand  years." 

Now  she  melted,  indeed,  and  suffered  Charmian  to 
moan  over  her,  and  fortify  her  with  all  the  reasons 
she  had  urged  herself  in  various  forms  of  repetition. 
Charmain  showed  her  again  how  impossible  every 
thing  that  she  had  thought  impossible  was,  and  con 
vinced  her  of  every  conviction.  She  made  Cornelia's 
tragedy  her  romance,  and  solemnly  exulted  in  its  fatal 
ity,  while  she  lifted  her  in  her  struggle  of  conscience 
to  a  height  from  which  for  the  present  at  least,  Cornelia 


284  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

could  not  have  descended  without  a  ruinous  loss  of 
self-respect.  In  the  renunciation  in  which  the  wor 
shipper  confirmed  her  saint,  Ludlow  and  his  rights  and 
feelings  were  ignored,  and  Cornelia  herself  was  offered 
nothing  more  substantial  than  the  prospect  that  hence 
forth  she  and  Charmian  could  live  for  each  other  in  a 
union  that  should  be  all  principle  on  one  side  and  all 
adoration  on  the  other. 


XXXIII. 

CORNELIA  did  not  go  to  pass  that  week  in  Lent 
with  Mrs.  Westley.  When  she  went,  rather  tardily, 
to  withdraw  her  promise,  she  said  that  the  time  was 
now  growing  so  short  she  must  give  every  moment  to 
the  Synthesis.  Mrs.  "Westley  tacitly  arranged  to 
cancel  some  little  plans  she  had  made  for  her,  and  In 
the  pity  a  certain  harassed  air  of  the  girl's  moved  in 
her,  she  accepted  her  excuses  as  valid,  and  said,  "  But 
I  am  afraid  you  are  overworking  at  the  Synthesis, 
Miss  Saunders.  Are  you  feeling  quite  well  ?  " 

"Oh,  perfectly,"  Cornelia  answered  with  a  false 
buoyancy  from  which  she  visibly  fell.  She  looked 
down,  and  said,  "  I  wish  the  work  was  twice  as  hard !  " 

"  Ah,  you  have  come  to  that  very  soon,"  said  Mre. 
Westley ;  and  then  they  were  both  silent,  till  she 
added,  "  How  are  you  getting  on  with  your  picture  of 
Miss  Maybough  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  doing  anything  with  that,"  said 
Cornelia,  and  she  stood  up  to  go. 

"  But  you  are  going  to  exhibit  it  ?"  Mrs.  Westley 
persisted. 


286  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  No,  I  don't  know  as  I  am.  I  should  have  to  offer 
it  first." 

"  It  would  be  sure  to  be  accepted  ;  Mr.  Ludlow 
thinks  it  would." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  know,"  said  Cornelia,  feeling  herself 
get  very  red.  "  But  I  guess  I  won't  offer  it.  Good 
bye." 

Mrs.  Westley  kept  the  impression  of  something 
much  more  personal  than  artistic  in  Cornelia's  refer 
ence  to- her  picture,  and  when  she  met  Ludlow  a  few 
days  after,  she  asked  him  if  he  knew  that  Miss  Saun- 
ders  was  not  going  to  offer  her  picture  to  the  Ex 
hibition. 

He  said  simply  that  he  did  not  know  it. 

"  Don't  you  think  she  ought  ?  I  don't  think  she's 
looking  very  well,  of  late ;  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  isn't  she  ?  I  haven't  seen  her  "  — 
He  began  carelessly  ;  he  added  anxiously,  "  When  did 
you  see  her  ?  " 

"  A  few  days  ago.  She  came  to  say  she  could  not 
take  the  time  from  the  Synthesis  to  pay  me  that  little 
visit.  I'm  afraid  she's  working  too  hard.  Of  course, 
she's  very  ambitious ;  but  I  can't  understand  her  not 
wanting  to  show-  her  picture,  there,  and  trying  to 
sell  it." 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  287 

Ludlow  stooped  forward  and  pulled  the  long  ears  of 
Mrs.  Westley's  fashionable  dog  which  lay  on  the  rug 
at  his  feet. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  why  she's  changed  her  mind  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ludlow.  "  I  think  it's  because  I  helped 
her  with  it." 

"  Is  she  so  independent  ?  Or  perhaps  I  am  not 
quite  discreet  "  — 

"  Why  not  ?     You  say  she  didn't  look  well  ?  " 

"  She  looked  —  worried." 

He  asked,  as  if  it  immediately  followed,  "Mrs. 
"Westley,  should  you  mind  giving  me  a  little  advice 
about  a  matter  —  a  very  serious  matter  ?  " 

"  If  you  won't  follow  it." 

"  Do  we  ever  ?  " 

"Well?" 

"  How  much  use  can  a  man  be  to  a  girl  when  he 
knows  that  he  can't  be  of  the  greatest?  " 

"  None,  if  he  is  sure." 

"  He  is  perfectly  sure." 

"  He  had  better  let  her  alone,  then.  He  had  better 
not  try." 

"  I  am  going  to  try.  But  I  thank  you  for  your 
advice  more  than  if  I  were  going  to  take  it." 

They  parted  laughing ;  and  Mrs.  Westley  was  con- 


288  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

tented  to  be  left  with  the  mystery  which  she  believed 
was  m>  mystery  to  her. 

Ludlow  went  home  and  wrote  to  Cornelia : 

"  DEAR  Miss  SADNDERS  :  I  hear  you  are  not  going 
to  try  to  get  your  picture  into  the  Exhibition.  I  will 
not  pretend  not  to  understand  why,  and  you  would  not 
wish  me  to  ;  so  I  feel  free  to  say  that  you  are  making 
a  mistake.  You  ought  to  offer  your  picture  ;  I  think 
it  would  be  accepted,  and  you  have  no  right  to  forego 
the  chance  it  would  give  you,  for  the  only  reason  you 
can  have.  I  know  that  Mr.  Wetmore  would  be  glad 
to  advise  you  about  it ;  and  I  am  sure  you  will  believe 
that  I  have  not  asked  him  to  do  so. 

Yours  sincerely, 

W.  LUDLOW." 

Cornelia  turned  this  letter  in  many  lights,  and  tried 
to  take  it  in  many  ways ;  but  in  the  end  she  could 
only  take  it  in  the  right  way,  and  she  wrote  back : 

"  DEAR  MR.  LUDLOW  :  I  thank  you  very  much  for 
your  letter,  and  I  am  going  to  do  what  you  say. 
Yours  sincerely, 

CORNELIA  SAUNDERS. 

"  P.  S.  I  do  appreciate  your  kindness  very  much." 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  289 

She  added  this  postscript  after  trying  many  times 
to  write  a  reply  that  would  seem  less  blunt  and  dry ; 
but  she  could  not  write  anything  at  all  between  a  letter 
that  she  felt  was  gushing  and  this  note  which  certainly 
could  not  be  called  so ;  she  thought  the  postscript  did 
not  help  it  much,  but  she  let  it  go. 

As  soon  as  she  had  done  so,  it  seemed  to  her  that 
she  had  no  reason  for  having  done  so,  and  she  did  not 
see  how  she  could  justify  it  to  Charmian,  whom  she 
had  told  that  she  should  not  offer  her  picture.  She 
would  have  to  say  that  she  had  changed  her  mind 
simply  because  Mr.  Ludlow  had  bidden  her,  and  she 
tried  to  think  how  she  could  make  that  appear  suffi 
cient.  But  Charmian  was  entirely  satisfied.  "Oh, 
yes,"  she  said,  "  that  was  the  least  you  could  do,  when 
he  asked  you.  You  certainly  owed  him  that  much. 
Now"  she  added  mystically,  "he  never  can  say  a 
thing." 

They  were  -in  Charmian's  studio,  where  Cornelia's 
sketch  of  her  had  been  ever  since  she  left  working  on 
it ;  and  Charmian  ran  and  got  it,  and  set  it  where  they 
could  both  see  it  in  the  light  of  the  new  event. 

"It's  magnificent,  Cornelia.  There's  no  other 
word  for  it.  Did  you  know  he  was  going  to  give  me 

his?" 

19 


290  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  Yes,  he  told  me  he  was  going  to,"  said  Cornelia, 
looking  at  her  sketch,  with  a  dreamy  suffusion  of  hap 
piness  in  her  face. 

"  It's  glorious,  but  it  doesn't  come  within  a  million 
miles  of  yours.  Mr.  Wetmore  isn't  on  the  Committee, 
this  year,  but  he  knows  them  all,  and  "  — 

Cornelia  turned  upon  her.  "  Charmian  Maybough, 
if  you  breathe,  if  you  dream  a  word  to  him  about  it 
I  will  never  speak  to  you.  If  my  picture  can't  get 
into  the  Exhibition  without  the  help  of  friends  "  — 

"  Oh,  /  shan't  speak  to  him  about  it,"  Charmian 
hastened  to  assure  her.  In  pursuance  of  her  promise, 
she  only  spoke  to  Mrs.  Wetmore,  and  at  the  right 
time  Wetmore  used  his  influence  with  the  committee. 
Then,  for  the  reason,  or  the  no  reason  that  governs  such 
matters,  or  because  Cornelia's  picture  was  no  better 
than  too  many  others  that  were  accepted,  it  was 
refused. 


XXXIV. 

THE  blow  was  not  softened  to  Cornelia  by  her  hav 
ing  prophesied  to  Charmian  as  well  as  to  herself,  that 
she  knew  her  picture  would  be  refused.  Now  she 
was  aware  that  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  had 
always  hoped  and  believed  it  would  be  accepted.  She 
had  kept  it  all  from  her  mother,  but  she  had  her  fond, 
proud  visions  of  how  her  mother  would  look  when  she 
got  her  letter  saying  that  she  had  a  picture  in  the 
Exhibition,  and  how  she  would  throw  on  her  sacque 
and  bonnet,  and  run  up  to  Mrs.  Burton  for  an  explana 
tion  and  full  sense  of  the  honor.  In  these  fancies 
Cornelia  even  had  them  come  to  New  York,  to  see 
her  picture  in  position ;  it  was  not  on  the  line,  of 
course,  and  yet  it  was  not  skyed. 

Her  pride  was  not  involved,  and  she  suffered  no 
sting  of  wounded  vanity  from  its  rejection :  her  hurt 
was  in  a  tenderer  place.  She  would  not  have  cared 
hoiv  many  people  knew  of  her  failure,  if  her  mother 
and  Mrs.  Burton  need  not  have  known  ;  but  she  wrote 
faithfully  home  of  it,  and  tried  to  make  neither  much 


292  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

nor  little  of  it.  She  forbade  Charmian  the  indigna 
tion  which  she  would  have  liked  to  vent,  but  she  let 
her  cry  over  the  event  with  her.  No  one  else  knew 
that  it  had  actually  happened  except  Wetmore  and 
Ludlow ;  she  was  angry  with  them  at  first  for  encour 
aging  her  to  offer  the  picture,  but  Wetmore  came  and 
was  so  mystified  and  humbled  by  its  refusal,  that  she 
forgave  him  and  even  comforted  him  for  his  part  in 
the  affair. 

"  She  acted  like  a  little  man  about  it,"  he  reported 
to  Ludlow.  "  She'll  do.  When  a  girl  can  take  a 
blow  like  that  the  way  she  does,  she  makes  you  wish 
that  more  fellows  were  girls.  When  I  had  my  first 
picture  refused,  it  laid  me  up.  But  I'm  not  going  to 
let  this  thing  rest.  I'm  going  to  see  if  that  picture 
can't  be  got  into  the  American  Artists'." 

"  Better  not,"  said  Ludlow  so  vaguely  that  Wetmore 
thought  he  must  mean  something. 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Oh  —  I  don't  believe  she'd  like  it." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?    Have  you  seen  her  ?  " 

"No"  — 

"  You  haven't  ?  Well,  Ludlow,  /  didn't  lose  any 
time.  Perhaps  you  think  there  was  no  one  else  to 
blame  for  the  mortification  of  that  poor  child." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  293 

"  No,  I  don't.  I  am  to  blame,  too.  I  encouraged 
her  to  try —  I  urged  her." 

"  Then  I  should  think  you  would  go  and  tell  her 
so." 

"  Ah,  I  think  she  knows  it.  If  I  told  her  anything, 
I  should  tell  her  no  one  was  to  blame  but  myself." 

"Well,  that  wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea."  Wetmore 
lighted  his  pipe.  "  Confound  those  fellows !  I  should 
like  to  knock  their  heads  together.  If  there  is  any 
thing  like  the  self-righteousness  of  a  committee  when 
it's  wrong  —  but  there  isn't,  fortunately." 

It  was  not  the  first  time  that  Ludlow  had  faltered 
in  the  notion  of  going  to  Cornelia  and  claiming  to  be 
wholly  at  fault.  In  thought  he  was  always  doing  it, 
and  there  were  times  when  he  almost  did  it  in  reality, 
but  he  let  these  times  pass  effectless,  hoping  for  some 
better  time  when  the  thing  would  do  itself,  waiting 
for  the  miracle  which  love  expects,  when  it  is  itself  the 
miracle  that  brings  all  its  desires  to  fulfilment.  He 
certainly  had  some  excuses  for  preferring  a  passive 
part  in  what  he  would  have  been  so  glad  to  have 
happen.  Cornelia  had  confessed  that  she  had  once 
cared  for  him,  but  at  the  same  time  she  had  implied  that 
she  cared  for  him  no  longer,  and  she  had  practically 
forbidden  him  to  see  her  again.  Much  study  of  her 


294  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

words  could  make  nothing  else  of  them,  and  it  was 
not  until  Ludlow  saw  his  way  to  going  impersonally 
in  his  quality  of  mistaken  adviser,  from  whom  explan 
ation  and  atonement  were  due,  that  he  went  to  Cor 
nelia.  Even  then  he  did  not  quite  believe  that  she 
would  see  him,  and  he  gladly  lost  the  bet  he  made 
himself,  at  the  sound  of  a  descending  step  on  the 
stairs,  that  it  was  the  Irish  girl  coming  back  to  say 
that  Miss  Saunders  was  not  at  home. 

They  met  very  awkwardly,  and  Ludlow  had  such 
an  official  tone  in  claiming  responsibility  for  having 
got  Cornelia  to  offer  her  picture,  and  so  have  it  re 
jected,  that  he  hardly  knew  who  was  talking.  "  That 
is  all,"  he  said,  stiffly ;  and  he  rose  and  stood  looking 
into  his  hat.  "  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  couldn't  do 
less  than  come  and  say  this,  and  I  hope  you  don't  feel 
that  I'm  —  I'm  unwarranted  in  coming." 

"  Oh,  no,"  cried  Cornelia,  "  it's  very  kind  of  you, 
and  no  one's  to  blame  but  me.  I  don't  suppose  I 
should  care  ;  only  "  —  she  bit  her  lips  hard,  and  added 
deep  in  her  throat  —  "I  hated  to  have  my  mother  — 
But  I  am  rightfully  punished." 

She  meant  for  the  Dickerson  business,  but  Ludlow 
thought  she  meant  for  her  presumption,  and  his  heart 
smote  him  in  tender  indignation  as  her  head  sank  and 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  295 

her  face  averted  itself.  It  touched  him  keenly  that 
she  should  speak  to  him  in  that  way  of  her  mother,  as 
if  from  an  instinctive  sense  of  his  loving  and  faithful 
sympathy;  and  then,  somehow  he  had  her  in  his 
arms,  there  in  Mrs.  Montgomery's  dim  parlor ;  he 
noted,  as  in  a  dream,  that  his  hat  had  fallen  and  was 
rolling  half  the  length  of  it. 

"  Oh,  wait !  "  cried  the  girl.  "  What  are  you  do 
ing  —  You  don't  know.  There  is  something  I  must 
tell  you  —  that  will  make  you  hate  me" —  She 
struggled  to  begin  somehow,  but  she  did  not  know 
where. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  You  needn't  tell  me  anything. 
There  isn't  anything  in  the  world  that  could  change 
me  to  you  —  nothing  that  you  could  tell  me  !  Some 
time,  if  you  must  —  if  you  wish  ;  but  not  now.  I've 
been  too  miserable,  and  now  I'm  so  happy." 

"  But  it's  very  foolish,  it's  silly  !     I  tell  you  "  — 

"  Not  now,  not  now  !  "  He  insisted.  He  made  her 
cry,  he  made  her  laugh  ;  but  he  would  not  listen  to 
her.  She  knew  it  was  all  wrong,  that  it  was  roman 
tic  and  fantastic,  and  she  was  afraid  of  it ;  but  she 
was  so  happy  too,  that  she  could  not  will  it  for  the 
moment  to  be  otherwise.  She  put  off  the  time  that 
must  come,  or  let  him  put  it  off  for  her,  and  gladly 


296  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

lost  herself  in  the  bliss  of  the  present.  The  fear, 
growing  more  and  more  vague  and  formless,  haunted 
her  rapture,  but  even  this  ceased  before  they  parted, 
and  left  her  at  perfect  peace  in  his  love  —  their  love. 

He  told  her  how  much  she  could  be  to  him,  how 
she  could  supplement  him  in  every  way  where  he  was 
faltering  and  deficient,  and  he  poured  out  his  heart  in 
praises  of  her  that  made  her  brain  reel.  They  talked 
of  a  thousand  things,  touching  them,  and  leaving  them, 
and  coming  back,  but  always  keeping  within  the 
circle  of  their  relation  to  themselves.  They  flattered 
one  another  with  the  tireless  and  credulous  egotism  of 
love  ;  they  tried  to  tell  what  they  had  thought  of  each 
other  from  the  first  moment  they  met,  and  tried  to 
make  out  that  they  neither  had  ever  since  had  a 
thought  that  was  not  the  other's ;  they  believed  this. 
The  commonplaces  of  the  passion  ever  since  it  began 
to  refine  itself  from  the  earliest  savage  impulse,  seemed 
to  have  occurred  to  them  for  the  first  time  in  the  his 
tory  of  the  race ;  they  accused  themselves  each  of  not 
being  worthy  of  the  other;  they  desired  to  be  very 
good,  and  to  live  for  the  highest  things. 

They  began  this  life  by  spending  the  whole  after 
noon  together.  When  some  other  people  came  into 
the  parlor,  they  went  out  to  walk.  They  walked  so 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  297 

long  and  far,  that  they  came  at  last  to  the  Park 
without  meaning  to,  and  sat  on  a  bench  by  a  rock. 
Other  people  were  doing  the  same :  nurses  with  baby- 
carriages  before  them ;  men  smoking  and  reading ; 
elderly  husbands  with  their  elderly  wives  beside  them, 
whom  they  scarcely  spoke  to ;  it  must  have  been  a 
very  common,  idle  thing,  but  to  them  it  had  the  impor 
tance,  the  distinction  of  something  signal,  done  for  the 
first  time.  They  staid  there  till  it  was  almost  dark, 
and  then  they  went  and  had  tea  together  in  the 
restaurant  of  one  of  the  vast  hotels  at  the  entrance  of 
the  Park.  It  was  a  very  Philistine  place,  with  rich- 
looking,  dull-looking  people,  travellers  and  sojourners, 
dining  about  in  its  spacious  splendor ;  but  they  got  a 
table  in  a  corner  and  were  as  much  alone  there  as  in 
the  Park ;  their  happiness  seemed  to  push  the  world 
away  from  them  wherever  they  were,  and  to  leave 
them  free  within  a  wide  circle  of  their  own.  She 
poured  the  tea  for  them  both  from  the  pot  which  the 
waiter  set  at  her  side  ;  he  looked  on  in  joyful  wonder 
and  content.  "  How  natural  it  all  is,"  he  sighed.  "  I 
should  think  you  had  always  been  doing  that  for  me. 
But  I  suppose  it  is  only  from  the  beginning  of  time  !  " 
She  let  him  talk  the  most,  because  she  was  too  glad 
to  speak,  and  because  they  had  both  the  same  thoughts, 


298  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

and  it  did  not  need  two  to  utter  them.  Now  and  then, 
he  made  her  speak ;  he  made  her  answer  some  ques 
tion  ;  but  it  was  like  some  question  that  she  had  asked 
herself.  From  time  to  time  they  spoke  of  others 
besides  themselves ;  of  her  mother  and  the  Burtons, 
of  Charmian,  of  Mrs.  Westley,  of  Wetmore ;  but  it 
was  in  relation  to  themselves ;  without  this  relation, 
nothing  had  any  meaning. 

When  they  parted  after  an  evening  prolonged  till 
midnight  in  Mrs.  Montgomery's  parlor,  that  which 
had  been  quiescent  in  Cornelia's  soul,  stirred  again, 
and  she  knew  that  she  was  wrong  to  let  Ludlow  go 
without  telling  him  of  Dickerson.  It  was  the  folly  of 
that  agreement  of  theirs  about  painting  Charmian  re 
peating  itself  in  slightly  different  terms,  and  with 
vastly  deeper  meaning,  but  to  a  like  end  of  passive 
deceit,  of  tacit  untruth ;  his  wish  did  not  change  it. 
She  thought  afterwards  she  could  not  have  let  him  go 
without  telling  him,  if  she  had  not  believed  somehow 
that  the  parallel  would  complete  itself,  and  that  he 
would  come  back,  as  he  had  done  before,  and  help  her 
undo  what  was  false  between  them ;  but  perhaps  this 
was  not  so ;  perhaps  if  she  had  been  sure  he  would 
not  come  back  she  would  not  have  spoken ;  at  any 
rate  he  did  not  come  back. 


XXXV. 

CORNELIA  was  left  to  no  better  counsels  than  those 
of  Charmian  Maybough,  and  these  were  disabled  from 
what  they  might  have  been  at  their  best,  by  Cornelia's 
failure  to  be  frank  with  her.  If  she  was  wronging 
Charmian  by  making  her  a  half-confidant  only,  she 
could  not  be  more  open  with  her  than  with  Ludlow, 
and  she  must  let  her  think  that  she  had  told  him 
everything  until  she  had  told  him  everything. 

She  did  honestly  try  to  do  so,  from  time  to  time ; 
she  tried  to  lead  him  on  to  ask  her  what  it  was  he  had 
kept  her  from  telling  him  in  that  first  moment  of  their 
newly  confessed  love,  when  it  would  have  been  easier 
than  it  could  ever  be  again.  She  reproached  him  in 
her  heart  for  having  prevented  her  then ;  it  seemed  as 
if  he  must  know  that  she  was  longing  for  his  help  to 
be  frank ;  but  she  never  could  make  that  cry  for  his 
help  pass  her  lips  where  it  trembled  when  she  ought 
to  have  felt  safest  with  him.  She  began  to  be  afraid 
of  him,  and  he  began  to  be  aware  of  her  fear. 

He  went  home  after  parting  with  her  that  first  night 


300  THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA. 

of  their  engagement  too  glad  of  all  that  was,  to  feel 
any  lack  in  it ;  but  the  first  thought  in  his  mind  when 
he  woke  the  next  morning  was  not  that  perfect  joy 
which  the  last  before  he  fell  asleep  had  been.  His 
discomfort  was  a  formless  emotion  at  first,  and  it  was 
a  moment  before  it  took  shape  in  the  mistake  he  had 
made,  in  forbidding  Cornelia  to  tell  him  what  she  had 
kept  from  him,  merely  because  he  knew  that  she  wished 
to  keep  it.  He  ought  to  have  been  strong  enough  for 
both,  and  he  had  joined  his  weakness  to  hers  from  a 
fantastic  impulse  of  generosity.  Now  he  perceived 
that  the  truth,  slighted  and  postponed,  must  right  it 
self  at  the  cost  of  the  love  which  it  should  have  been 
part  of.  He  began  to  be  tormented  with  a  curiosity  to 
know  what  he  could  not  ask,  or  let  her  suspect  that 
he  even  wished  to  know.  Whether  he  was  with  her 
or  away  from  her,  he  always  had  that  in  his  mind,  and 
in  the  small  nether  ache,  inappeasable  and  incessant, 
he  paid  the  penalty  of  his  romantic  folly.  He  had  to 
bear  it  and  to  hide  it.  Yet  they  both  seemed  flaw 
lessly  happy  to  others,  and  in  a  sort  they  seemed  so  to 
themselves.  They  waited  for  the  chance  that  should 
make  them  really  so. 

Cornelia  kept  on  at  her  work,  all  the  more  devotedly 
because  she  was  now  going  home  so  soon  and  because 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHKMIA.  301 

she  knew  herself  divided  from  it  by  an  interest  which 

V       MHpfe.    ^0MW>^M^^ 

made  art  seem  slight  and  poor,  when  she  felt  secure  in 
her  happiness,  and  made  it  seem  nothing  when  her 
heart  misgave  her.  She  never  could  devolve  upon 
that  if  love  failed  her  ;  art  could  only  be  a  part  of  her 
love  henceforward.  She  could  go  home  and  help  her 
mother  with  her  work  till  she  died,  if  love  failed  her, 
but  she  could  never  draw  another  line. 

There  was  going  to  be  an  exhibition  of  Synthesis 
work  at  the  close  of  the  Synthesis  year,  and  there 
was  to  be  a  masquerade  dance  in  the  presence  of  the 
pictures.  Charmian  was  the  heart  and  soul  of  the 
masquerade,  and  she  pushed  its  claims  to  the  disad 
vantage  of  the  exhibition.  Some  of  the  young  ladies 
who  thought  that  art  should  have  the  first  place,  went 
about  saying  that  she  was  for  the  dance  because  she 
could  waltz  and  mask  better  than  she  could  draw,  and 
would  rather  exhibit  herself  than  her  work,  but  it  was 
a  shame  that  she  should  make  Miss  Saunders  work  for 
her  the  way  she  did,  because  Miss  Saunders,  though 
she  was  so  overrated,  was  really  learning  something, 
thanks  to  the  Synthesis  atmosphere ;  and  Charmian 
Maybough  would  never  learn  anything.  It  was  all 
very  well  for  her  to  pretend  that  she  scorned  to  send 
anything  to  a  school  exhibition,  but  she  was  at  least 


302  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

not  such  a  simpleton  as  to  risk  offering  anything,  for 
it  would  not  be  accepted.  That,  they  said,  was  the  real 
secret  of  her  devotion  to  the  masquerade  and  of  her 
theory  that  the  spirit  of  the  Synthesis  could  be  ex 
pressed  as  well  in  making  that  beautiful,  as  in  the 
exhibition.  Charmian  had  Cornelia  come  and  stay 
with  her  the  whole  week  before  the  great  event, 
and  she  spent  it  in  a  tumult  of  joyful  excitement 
divided  between  the  tremendous  interests  of  Ludlow's 
coming  every  night  to  see  Cornelia,  and  of  having  them 
both  advise  with  her  about  her  costume.  Ludlow  was 
invited  to  the  dance,  and  he  was  to  be  there  so  as  to 
drive  home  with  her  and  Cornelia. 

In  the  mean  time  Charmian's  harshest  critics  were 
not  going  to  be  outdone,  if  they  could  help  it,  in  any 
way ;  they  not  only  contributed  to  the  exhibition,  but 
four  or  five  days  beforehand  they  began  to  stay  away 
from  the  Synthesis,  and  get  up  their  costumes  for  the 
masquerade.  Everything  was  to  be  very  simple,  and 
you  could  come  in  costume  or  not,  as  you  pleased, 
but  the  consensus  was  that  people  were  coming  in  cos 
tume,  and  you  would  not  want  to  look  odd. 

The  hall  for  the  dancing  was  created  by  taking 
down  the  board  partitions  that  separated  three  of  the 
class-rooms ;  and  hanging  the  walls  with  cheese-cloth 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  303 

to  hide  the  old  stains  and  paint-marks,  and  with  pic 
tures  by  the  instructors.  There  was  a  piano  for  the 
music,  and  around  the  wall  rough  benches  were  put, 
with  rugs  over  them  to  save  the  ladies'  dresses.  The 
effect  was  very  pretty,  with  palettes  on  nails,  high  up, 
and  tall  flowers  in  vases  on  brackets,  and  a  life- study 
in  plaster  by  one  of  the  girls,  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 
It  all  had  the  charm  of  tasteful  design  yielding  here 
and  there  to  happy  caprice ;  this  mingling  of  the 
ordered  and  the  bizarre,  expressed  the  spirit,  at  once 
free  and  submissive,  of  the  place.  There  had  been  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  which  at  times  seemed  out  of  all 
keeping  with  the  end  to  be  gained,  but  when  it  was 
all  over,  the  trouble  seemed  nothing.  The  exhibition 
was  the  best  the  Synthesis  had  ever  made,  and  those 
who  had  been  left  out  of  it  were  not  the  least  of  those 
in  the  masquerade ;  they  were  by  no  means  the  worst 
dressed,  or  when  they  unmasked,  the  plainest,  and 
Charmian's  favorite  maxim  that  art  was  all  one,  was 
verified  in  the  costumes  of  several  girls  who  could  not 
draw  any  better  than  she  could.  If  they  were  not  on 
the  walls  in  one  way  neither  were  they  in  another. 
After  they  had  wandered  heart-sick  through  the  dif 
ferent  rooms,  and  found  their  sketches  nowhere,  they 
had  their  compensation  when  the  dancing  began. 


304  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

The  floor  was  filled  early,  and  the  scene  gathered 
gayety  and  brilliancy.  It  had  the  charm  that  the  taste 
of  the  school  could  give  in  the  artistic  effects,  and  its 
spirit  of  generous  comradery  found  play  in  the  praises 
they  gave  each  other's  costumes,  and  each  other's 
looks  when  they  were  not  in  costume.  It  was  a 
question  whether  Cornelia  who  came  as  herself,  was 
lovelier  than  Charmian,  who  was  easily  recognizable 
as  Cleopatra,  with  ophidian  accessories  in  her  dress 
that  suggested  at  once  the  serpent  of  old  Nile,  and  a 
Moqui  snake-dancer.  Cornelia  looked  more  beautiful 
than  ever ;  her  engagement  with  Ludlow  had  come 
out  and  she  moved  in  the  halo  of  poetic  interest  which 
betrothal  gives  a  girl  with  all  other  girls;  it  was 
thought  an  inspiration  that  she  should  not  have  come 
in  costume,  but  in  her  own  character.  Ludlow's  fit 
ness  to  carry  off  such  a  prize  was  disputed ;  he  was 
one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Synthesis,  and  much  was  con 
ceded  to  him  because  he  had  more  than  once  replaced 
the  instructor  in  still-life  there.  But  there  remained  a 
misgiving  with  some  whether  Cornelia  was  right  in 
giving  up  her  art  for  him;  whether  she  were  not 
recreant  to  the  Synthesis  in  doing  that ;  the  doubt, 
freshly  raised  by  her  beauty,  was  not  appeased  till 
Charmian  met  it  with  the  assertion  that  Cornelia  was 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  305 

not  going  to  give  up  her  art  at  all,  but  after  her  mar 
riage  was  coming  back  to  study  and  paint  with  Ludlow. 
Charmian  bore  her  honors  graciously,  both  as  the 
friend  of  the  new  fiancee,  and  as  the  most  successful 
mask  of  the  evening.  In  her  pride  and  joy,  she  set 
the  example  of  looking  out  for  girls  who  were  not 
having  a  good  time,  and  helping  them  to  have  one 
with  the  men  of  her  own  too  constant  following,  and 
with  those  who  stood  about,  wanting  the  wish  or  the 
courage  to  attach  themselves  to  any  one.  In  the  ex 
citement  she  did  not  miss  Cornelia,  or  notice  whether 
Ludlow  had  come  yet.  When  she  did  think  of  her  it 
was  to  fancy  that  she  was  off  somewhere  with  him,  and 
did  not  want  to  be  looked  up.  Before  the  high 
moment  when  one  of  the  instructors  appeared,  and 
chose  a  partner  for  the  Virginia  Reel,  Charmian  had 
fused  all  the  faltering  and  reluctant  temperaments  in 
the  warmth  of  her  amiability.  Nobody  ever  denied 
her  good  nature,  in  fact,  whatever  else  they  denied 
her,  and  there  were  none  who  begrudged  her  its  re 
ward  at  last.  She  was  last  on  the  floor,  when  the 
orchestra,  having  played  as  long  as  it  had  bargained 
to,  refused  to  play  any  longer,  and  the  dance  came  to 
an  end.  She  then  realized  that  it  was  after  twelve, 

and  she  remembered  Cornelia.     She  rushed  down  into 
20 


306  THE    COAST    OP    BOHEMIA. 

the  dressing-room,  and  found  her  sitting  there  alone, 
bonneted  and  wrapped  for  the  street.  There  was 
something  suddenly  strange  and  fateful  about  it  all  to 
Charmian. 

"  Cornelia !  "  she  entreated.  "  What  is  the  matter  ? 
"What  has  become  of  Mr.  Ludlow  ?  Hasn't  he  been 
here  to-night  ?  " 

Cornelia  shook  her  head,  and  made  a  hoarse  mur 
mur  in  her  throat,  as  if  she  wished  to  speak  and  could 
not.  There  seemed  to  be  some  sort  of  weight  upon  her, 
so  that  she  could  not  rise,  but  Charmian  swiftly  made 
her  own  changes  of  toilet  necessary  for  the  street, 
and  got  Cornelia  out  of  doors  and  into  her  coupe  which 
was  waiting  for  them,  before  the  others  descended 
from  the  dancing-room,  where  the  men  staid  to  help 
the  janitor  put  out  the  lights.  As  the  carriage 
whirled  them  away,  they  could  hear  the  gay  cries  and 
laughter  of  the  first  of  the  revellers  who  came  out  into 
the  night  after  them. 


XXXVI. 

THE  solemn  man-servant,  who  was  now  also  sleepy, 
but  who  saved  the  respect  due  the  young  ladies  by 
putting  his  hand  over  a  yawn  when  he  let  them  in, 
brought  Cornelia  a  letter  which  he  seemed  to  have 
been  keeping  on  his  professional  salver.  "A  letter 
for  you,  miss.  It  came  about  an  hour  after  you  went 
out.  The  messenger  said  he  wasn't  to  wait  for  an 
answer,  and  Mrs.  Maybough  thought  she  needn't  send 
it  to  you  at  the  Synthesis.  She  wanted  me  to  tell 
you,  miss." 

"  Oh,  it  is  all  right,  thank  you,"  said  Cornelia,  with 
a  tremor  which  she  could  not  repress  at  the  sight  of 
Ludlow's  handwriting. 

Charmian  put  her  arm  round  her.  "  Come  into  the 
studio,  dear.  You  can  answer  it  there,  if  you  want  to, 
at  once." 

"  Well,"  said  Cornelia,  passively. 

Charmian  found  her  sitting  with  the  letter  in  her 
lap,  as  if  she  had  not  moved  from  her  posture  while 
she  had  been  away  exchanging  her  Plotemaic  travesty 


308  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

for  the  ease  of  a  long  silken  morning  gown  of  Nile 
green.  She  came  back  buttoning  it  at  her  throat, 
when  she  gave  a  start  of  high  tragic  satisfaction  at 
something  stonily  rigid  in  Cornelia's  attitude,  but  she 
kept  to  herself  both  her  satisfaction  and  the  poignant 
sympathy  she  felt  at  the  same  time,  and  sank  noise 
lessly  into  a  chair  by  the  fireless  hearth. 

After  a  moment  Cornelia  stirred  and  asked,  "  Do 
you  want  to  see  it,  Charmian  ?  " 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  ?  "  Charmian  asked  back,  with 
her  heart  in  her  throat,  lest  the  question  should  make 
Cornelia  change  her  mind. 

There  were  two  lines  from  Ludlow,  unsigned :  "  I 
have  received  the  enclosed  letter,  which  I  think  you 
should  see  before  I  see  you  again."  His  note  enclosed 
a  letter  from  Dickerson  to  Ludlow,  which  ran : 
"  Although  you  are  a  stranger  to  me,  I  feel  an  old 
friend's  interest  in  your  engagement  to  Miss  Cornelia 
Saunders,  of  which  I  have  just  been  informed.  I  can 
fully  endorse  your  good  taste.  Was  once  engaged  to 
the  young  lady  myself  some  years  since,  and  have 
been  in  correspondence  with  her  up  to  a  very  recent 
date.  Would  call  and  offer  my  well  wishes  in  person, 
but  am  unexpectedly  called  away  on  business.  Pre 
sume  Miss  Saunders  has  told  you  of  our  little  affair, 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  309 

so  will  not  enlarge  upon  the  facts.      Please  give  her 
my  best  regards  and  congratulations. 

Yours  respect'ly, 

J.  B.  DlCKERSON." 

Charmian  let  the  papers  fall  to  her  lap,  and  looked 
at  Cornelia  who  stared  blankly,  helplessly  back  at  her. 
"  What  a  hateful,  spiteful  little  cad !  "  she  began,  and 
she  enlarged  at  length  upon  Mr.  Dickerson's  character 
and  behavior.  She  arrested  herself  in  this  pleasure, 
and  said,  "  But  I  don't  understand  why  Mr.  Ludlow 
should  have  staid  away  this  evening  on  account  of  his 
letter,  or  why  he  should  have  sent  it  to  you,  if  he 
knew  about  it  already.  It  seems  to  me  "  — 

"  He  didn't  know  about  it,"  said  Cornelia.  "  I 
haven't  told  him  yet." 

"  Why,  Cornelia !  " 

The  reproachful  superiority  in  Charmian's  tone  was 
bitter  to  Cornelia,  but  she  did  not  even  attempt  to  re 
sent  it.  She  said  meekly,  "  I  did  try  to  tell  him.  I 
wanted  to  tell  him  the  very  first  thing,  but  he  wouldn't 
let  me,  then ;  and  then  —  I  couldn't." 

Charmian's  superiority  melted  into  sympathy  :  "  Of 
course,"  she  said. 

"And  now,  I  never  can  tell  him,"  Cornelia  des 
perately  concluded. 


310  THE    COAST    OK    BOHEMIA. 

"  Never !  "  Charmian  assented.  The  gleam  of  com 
mon-sense  which  had  visited  her  for  an  instant,  was 
lost  in  the  lime-light  of  romance,  which  her  fancy  cast 
upon  the  situation.  "And  what  are  you  going  to 
do  ?  "  she  asked,  enraptured  by  its  hopeless  gloom. 

"  Nothing.     What  can  I  do  ?" 

"No.  You  can  do  nothing."  She  started,  as  with 
a  sudden  inspiration.  "  Why,  look  here,  Cornelia ! 
Why  wouldn't  this  do  ?  " 

She  stopped  so  long  that  Cornelia  asked,  somewhat 
crossly,  "Well?" 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I'd  better  tell  you.  But  I 
know  it  would  be  the  very  thing.  Do  you  want  me 
to  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  makes  no  difference,"  said  Cornelia,  hope 
lessly. 

Charmian  went  on  tentatively,  "  Why,  it's  this. 
I've  often  heard  of  such  things  :  Me  to  pretend  that  1 
wrote  this  horrid  Dickerson  letter,  and  there  isn't  any 
such  person ;  but  I  did  it  just  for  a  joke,  or  wanted  to 
break  off  the  engagement  because  I  couldn't  bear  to 
give  you  up.  Don't  you  see  ?  It's  like  lots  of  things 
on  the  stage,  and  I've  "read  of  them.  I'd  be  perfectly 
willing  to  sacrifice  myself  in  such  a  cause,  and  I 
should  have  to,  for  after  I  said  I  had  done  such  a  thing 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  311 

as  that,  he  would  never  let  you  speak  to  me  again, 
or  look  at  me,  even.  But  I  should  die  happy  "  — 
She  stopped,  frozen  to  silence,  by  the  scornful  re 
jection  in  Cornelia's  look.  "  Oh,  no,  no  !  It  wouldn't 
do!  I  see  it  wouldn't!  Don't  speak!  But  there's 
nothing  else  left,  that  I  know  of."  She  added,  by 
another  inspiration,  "  Or,  yes !  Now  —  now  —  we  can 
live  for  each  other,  Cornelia.  You  will  outlive  this. 
You  will  be  terribly  changed,  of  course ;  and  perhaps 
your  health  may  be  affected ;  but  I  shall  always  be 
with  you  from  this  on.  I  have  loved  you  more  truly 
than  he  ever  did,  if  he  can  throw  you  over  for  a  little 
thing  like  that.  If  I  were  a  man  I  should  exult  to 
ignore  such  a  thing.  Oh,  if  men  could  only  be  what 
girls  would  be  if  they  were  men !  But  now  you  must 
begin  to  forget  him  from  this  instant  —  to  put  him 
out  of  your  mind  —  your  life." 

To  further  this  end  Charmian  talked  of  Ludlow  for 
a  long  time,  and  entered  upon  a  close  examination  of 
his  good  and  bad  qualities ;  his  probable  motives  for 
now  behaving  as  he  was  doing,  and  the  influence  of  the 
present  tragedy  upon  his  future  as  a  painter.  It  would 
either  destroy  him  or  it  would  be  the  fire  out  of  which 
he  would  rise  a  master ;  he  would  degenerate  into  a 
heartless  worldling,  which  he  might  very  well  do,  for 


312  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

he  was  fond  of  society,  or  he  might  become  a  gloomy 
recluse,  and  produce  pictures  which  the  multitude 
would  never  know  were  painted  with  tears  and  blood. 
"  Of  course,  I  don't  mean  literally  ;  the  idea  is  rather 
disgusting ;  but  you  know  what  I  mean,  Cornelia.  v 
He  may  commit  suicide,  like  that  French  painter, 

Robert ;  but  he  doesn't   seem  one  of  that  kind,  ex- 

* 

actly ;  he's  much  more  likely  to  abandon  art  and 
become  an  art-critic.  Yes,  it  may  make  an  art-critic 
of  him." 

Cornelia  sat  in  a  heavy  muse,  hearing  and  not  hear 
ing  what  she  said.  Charmian  bustled  about,  and 
made  a  fire  of  lightwood,  and  then  kindled  her  spirit 
lamp,  and  made  tea,  which  she  brought  to  Cornelia. 
"  We  may  as  well  take  it,"  she  said.  "  We  shall  not 
sleep  to-night  anyway.  What  a  strange  ending  to  our 
happy  evening.  It's  perfectly  Hawthornesque.  Don't 
you  think  it's  like  the  Marble  Faun,  somehow  ?  I  believe 
you  will  rise  to  a  higher  life  through  this  trouble, 
Cornelia,  just  as  Donatello  did  through  his  crime.  I 
can  arrange  it  with  mamma  to  be  with  you  ;  and  if  I 
can't  I  shall  just  simply  abandon  her,  and  we  will  take 
a  little  flat  like  two  newspaper  girls  that  I  heard  of, 
and  live  together.  We  will  get  one  down-town,  on 
the  East  Side." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  313 

Cornelia  took  the  tea  and  drank  it,  but  she  could 
not  speak.  It  would  have  been  easier  to  bear  if  she 
had  only  had  herself  alone  to  blame,  but  mixed  with 
her  shame,  and  with  her  pity  for  him,  was  a  sense  of 
his  want  of  wisdom  in  refusing  to  let  her  speak  at 
once,  when  she  wanted  to  tell  him  all  about  Dicker- 
son.  That  was  her  instinct ;  she  had  been  right,  and 
he  wrong ;  she  might  be  to  blame  for  everything 
since,  but  he  was  to  blame  then  and  for  that.  Now  it 
was  all  wrong,  and  past  undoing.  She  tried,  in  the 
reveries  running  along  with  what  she  was  hearing  of 
Charmian's  talk,  every  way  of  undoing  it  that  she 
could  imagine :  she  wrote  to  Ludlow ;  she  sent  for 
him ;  she  went  to  him ;  but  it  was  all  impossible.  She 
did  not  wish  to  undo  the  wrong  that  she  might  have 
back  her  dream  of  happiness  again ;  she  had  been 
willing  to  be  less  than  true,  and  she  could  wish  him  to 
know  that  she  hated  herself  for  that. 

It  went  on  and  on,  in  her  brain ;  there  was  no  end 
to  it ;  no  way  to  undo  the  snarl  that  life  had  tangled 
itself  up  into.  She  looked  at  the  clock  on  the  mantel, 
and  saw  that  it  was  three  o'clock.  "  Why  don't  you 
go  to  bed?  "  she  asked  Charmian. 

"  I  shall  not  go  to  bed,  I  shall  never  go  to  bed," 
said  Charmian  darkly.  She  added,  "  If  you'll  come 
with  me,  I  will." 


314  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  I  can't,"  said  Cornelia,  with  a  sort  of  dry  anguish. 
She  rose  from  where  she  had  been  sitting  motionless 
so  long.  "  Let  me  lie  down  on  that  couch  of  yours, 
there.  I'm  tired  to  death." 

She  went  toward  the  alcove  curtained  off  from  the 
studio,  and  Charmian  put  her  arm  round  her  to  stay 
her  and  help. 

"  Don't.     I  can  get  along  perfectly  well." 

"I  will  lie  down  here  with  you,"  said  Charmian. 
"You  won't  mind  ?  " 

"  No,  I  shall  like  to  have  you." 

Cornelia  shivered  as  she  sat  down  on  the  edge  of 
this  divan,  and  Charmian  ran  back  to  put  another 
stick  of  lightwood  on  the  fire,  and  turn  the  gas  down 
to  a  blue  flame.  She  pulled  down  rugs  and  draperies, 
and  dragged  them  toward  the  alcove  for  covering. 
"  Oh,  how  different  it  is  from  the  way  I  always  sup 
posed  it  would  be  when  I  expected  to  sleep  here !  " 
She  sank  her  voice  to  a  ghostly  whisper,  and  yawned. 
"  Now  you  go  to  sleep,  Cornelia ;  but  if  you  want 
anything  I  shall  be  watching  here  beside  you,  and  you 
must  ask  me.  Would  you  like  anything  now  ?  An 
olive,  or  a  —  cracker  ?  '-' 

"Nothing,"  said  Cornelia,  tumbling  wearily  upon 
the  couch. 


THE    COAST   OP   BOHEMIA.  315 

Charmian  surveyed  her  white,  drawn  face  with  pro 
found  appreciation.  Then  she  stretched  herself  at  her 
side,  and  in  a  little  while  Cornelia  knew  by  her  long, 
regular  breathing  that  she  had  found  relief  from  the 
stress  of  sympathy  in  sleep. 


XXXVII. 

THE  cold  north-light  of  the  studio  showed  that  it 
was  broad  day  when  a  tap  at  the  door  roused  Cornelia 
from  a  thin  drowse  she  had  fallen  into  at  dawn.  She 
stirred,  and  Charmian  threw  herself  from  the  couch  to 
her  feet.  "Don't  move  —  I'll  get  it  —  let  me"  — 
She  tossed  back  the  black  mane  that  fell  over  her 
eyes  and  stared  about  her.  "  What  —  what  is  it  ? 
Have  I  been  asleep?  Oh,  I  never  can  forgive  my 
self!" 

The  tapping  at  the  door  began  again,  and  she  ran  to 
open  it.  The  inexorable  housemaid  was  there ;  she 
said  that  Mrs.  May  bough  was  frightened  at  her  not 
finding  either  of  the  young  ladies  in  their  rooms,  and 
had  sent  her  to  see  if  they  were  in  the  studio. 

"  Yes,  tell  her  we  are,  please ;  we  fell  asleep  on  the 
couch,  please ;  and,  Norah !  we  want  our  breakfast 
here.  We  are  very  —  busy,  and  we  can't  be  dis 
turbed." 

She  twisted  her  hair  into  a  loose  knot,  and  cowered 
over  the  hearth,  where  she  kindled  some  pieces  of 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  317 

lightwood,  and  then  sat  huddled  before  it,  watching  the 
murky  roll  of  its  flames,  till  the  maid  came  back  with 
the  tray.  Charmian  wished  to  bring  Cornelia  a  cup  of 
coffee  where  she  still  lay,  so  crushed  with  the  despair 
that  had  rolled  back  upon  her  with  the  first  conscious 
ness  that  she  thought  she  never  could  rise  again.  But 
as  the  aroma  of  the  coffee  that  Charmian  poured  out 
stole  to  her,  she  found  strength  to  lift  herself  on  her 
elbow,  and  say,  "  No,  I  will  take  it  there  with  you." 

The  maid  had  put  the  tray  on  the  low  table  where 
Charmian  usually  served  tea,  but  in  spite  of  all  the 
poignant  associations  of  this  piece  of  furniture  with 
happier  times,  the  two  girls  ate  hungrily  of  the  ome 
lette  and  the  Vienna  rolls ;  and  by  the  time  the  maid 
had  put  the  studio  in  order,  and  beaten  up  the  cushions 
of  the  couch  into  their  formal  shape,  they  had  cleared 
the  tray,  and  she  took  it  away  with  her  quite  empty. 
Even  in  the  house  of  mourning,  and  perhaps  there 
more  than  elsewhere,  the  cravings  of  the  animal, 
which  hungers  and  thirsts  on,  whatever  happens,  satisfy 
themselves,  while  the  spirit  faints  and  despairs. 

Perhaps  if  Cornelia  had  thought  of  it  she  would 
not  have  chosen  to  starve  to  no  visible  end,  but  she  did 
not  think,  and  she  ate  ravenously  as  long  as  there  was 
anything  left,  and  when  she  had  eaten,  she  felt  so 


318  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

much  stronger  in  heart  and  clearer  in  mind,  that  after 
the  maid  had  gone  she  began,  "  Charmian,  I  am  going 
home,  at  once,  and  you  mustn't  try  to  stop  me ;  I 
mean  to  Mrs.  Montgomery's.  I  want  to  write  to  Mr. 
Ludlow.  I  shall  tell  him  it  is  all  true." 
"  Cornelia ! " 

"  Yes ;  what  else  could  I  tell  him  ?  " 
"  Oh,  you  must !  But  must  you  write  it  ?  " 
"  Yes ;  I  never  can  see  him  again,  and  I  won't  let 
him  think  that  I  want  to,  or  to  have  him  forgive  me. 
He  was  to  blame,  but  I  was  the  most,  for  he  might 
have  thought  it  was  just  some  little  thing,  and  I  knew 
what  it  was,  and  that  it  was  something  he  ought  to 
know  at  once.  He  will  always  believe  now  that  it  was 
worse  than  it  is,  if  anything  can  be  worse.  I  shall  tell 
him  that  after  I  had  seen  Mr.  Dickerson  again,  and 
knew  just  what  a  —  a  dreadful  thing  he  was,  I  toler 
ated  him,  and  lured  him  on  "  — 

"  You  didn't  lure  him  on,  and  I  won't  let  you  say 
such  a  thing,  Cornelia  Saunders,"  Charmian  protested. 
"  You  always  did  profess  to  have  sense,  and  that  isn't 
sense." 

"  I  never  had  any  sense,"  said  Cornelia,  "  I  can  see 
that  now.  I  have  been  a  perfect  fool  from  the  begin 
ning." 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  819 

"  You  may  have  been  a  fool,"  said  Charmian,  judi 
cially,  "  but  you  have  not  been  false,  and  I  am  not 
going  to  let  you  say  so.  If  you  don't  promise  not  to, 
I  will  tell  Mr.  Ludlow  myself  that  you  were  always 
perfectly  true,  and  you  couldn't  help  being  true,  any 
more  than  a  —  a  broomstick,  or  anything  else  that  is 
perpendicular.  Now,  will  you  promise  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  him  just  how  everything  was,  and  he 
can  judge.  But  what  difference  ?  It's  all  over,  and  I 
wouldn't  help  it  if  I  could." 

"Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  Charmian,  "but  that's  all 
the  more  reason  why  you  shouldn't  go  and  say  more 
than  there  is.  He  can't  think,  even  if  you're  just  to 
yourself,  that  you  want  to  —  wheedle." 

"  Wheedle !  "  cried  Cornelia. 

"Well,  not  wheedle,  exactly,  but  what  would  be 
wheedling  in  some  other  girl  —  in  me,"  said  Charmian, 
offering  herself  up.  "  Will  you  let  me  see  the  letter 
before  you  send  it  ?  I  do  believe  I've  got  more  sense 
than  you  have  about  such  things,  this  minute." 

"You  wouldn't  have  any  to  brag  of,  even  then," 
said  Cornelia  with  gloomy  meekness,  and  unconscious 
sarcasm.  "  Yes,  I  will  let  you  see  the  letter." 

"  Well,  then,  you  needn't  go  home  to  write  it ;  you 
can  write  in  your  room  here.  I  want  to  see  that  let- 


820  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

ter,  and  I  sha'n't  let  it  go  if  there's  the  least  thing 
wrong  in  it."  She  jumped  up  gayly,  as  if  this  were 
the  happiest  possible  solution  of  the  whole  difficulty, 
and  began  to  push  Cornelia  out  of  the  room.  "  Now 
go,  and  after  you've  put  yourself  in  shape,  and  got 
your  hair  done,  you'll  have  some  self-respect.  I  sup 
pose  you  won't  begin  to  write  till  you're  all  as  spick 
and  span  as  if  you  were  going  to  receive  a  call  from 
him.  I'm  such  a  slouch  that  I  should  just  sit  down 
and  write,  looking  every  which-way  —  but  I  know  you 
can't." 

She  came  back  to  the  studio  an  hour  later,  and 
waited  impatiently  for  Cornelia's  appearance.  She 
was  so  long  coming  that  Charmian  opened  the  door, 
to  go  and  ask  her  some  question,  so  as  to  get  her  to 
say  that  she  would  be  with  her  in  a  moment,  even  if 
she  didn't  come,  and  almost  ran  against  the  man-ser 
vant,  who  was  bringing  her  a  card.  She  gave  a  little 
nervous  shriek,  and  caught  it  from  his  salver. 

"  For  Miss  Saunders,  miss,"  he  said,  in  respectful 
deprecation  of  her  precipitate  behavior. 

"Yes,  yes;  it's  all  right.  Say  that  she  —  is  in  the 
studio."  Charmian  spoke  in  thick  gasps.  The  card 
was  Ludlow's ;  and  between  the  man's  going  and  Lud- 
low's  coming,  she  experienced  a  succession  of  sensa- 


THE   COAST   OP  BOHEMIA.  321 

tions  which  were,  perhaps,  the  most  heroically  perfect 
of  any  in  a  career  so  much  devoted  to  the  emotions. 
She  did  not  stop  to  inquire  what  she  should  do  after 
she  got  Ludlow  there,  or  to  ask  herself  what  he  was 
coming  for,  a  little  after  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning ; 
she  simply  waited  his  approach  in  an  abandon  which 
exhausted  the  capabilities  of  the  situation,  and  left  her 
rather  limp  and  ianguid  when  he  did  appear.  If  it 
had  been  her  own  affair  she  could  not  have  entered 
into  it  with  more  zeal,  more  impassioned  interest.  So 
far  as  she  reasoned  her  action  at  all,  it  was  intended 
to  keep  Ludlow,  after  she  got  him  there,  till  Cornelia 
should  come,  for  she  argued  that  if  she  should  go  for 
her  Cornelia  would  suspect  something,  and  she  would 

not  come  at  all. 
21 


XXXVI1L 

WHEN  Ludlow  found  Charmian  arid  not  Cornelia 
waiting  for  him,  he  managed  to  get  through  the  for 
malities  of  greeting  decently,  but  he  had  an  intensity 
which  he  had  the  effect  of  not  allowing  to  relax.  He 
sat  down  with  visible  self-constraint  when  Charmian 
invited  him  to  do  so. 

"  Miss  Saunders  has  just  gone  to  her  room ;  she'll 
be  back  in  a  moment."  She  added,  with  wild  joy  in 
a  fact  which  veiled  the  truth,  "  She  is  writing  a  note." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Ludlow,  and  he  was  so  clearly  able  not 
to  say  anything  more  that  Charmian  instantly  soared 
over  him  in  smooth  self-possession.  "  We  were  so  sorry 
not  to  see  you  last  night,  Mr.  Ludlow.  It  was  a  per 
fect  success,  except  your  not  coming,  of  course." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Ludlow,  "I  was  —  I  couldn't 
eome  —  at  the  last  moment." 

"Yes,  I  understood  you  intended  to  come.  I  do 
wish  you  could  have  seen  Miss  Saunders !  I  don't 
believe  she  ever  looked  lovelier.  I  wanted  her  to  go 
in  costume,  you  know,  but  she  wouldn't,  and  in  fact 


THE   COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  323 

when  I  saw  her,  I  saw  that  she  needn't.     She  doesn't 
have  to  eke  herself  out,  as  some  people  do." 

Ludlow  was  aware  of  the  opening  for  a  civil  speech, 
but  he  was  quite  helpless  to  use  it.  He  stared  blankly 
at  Charmian,  who  went  on  : 

"And  then,  Cornelia  is  so  perfectly  truthful,  you 
know,  so  sincere,  that  any  sort  of  disguise  would  have 
been  out  of  character  with  her,  and  I'm  glad  she  went 
simply  as  herself.  "We  were  up  so  late  talking,  that 
we  slept  till  I  don't  know  when,  this  morning.  I  for 
got  to  wind  my  clock.  I  suppose  it's  very  late." 

"  No,"  said  Ludlow,  "  it's  so  very  early  that  I  ought 
to  apologize  for  coming,  I  suppose.  But  I  wished  to 
see  Miss  Saunders  "  —  He  stopped,  feeling  that  he 
had  given  too  rude  a  hint. 

Charmian  did  not  take  it  amiss.  "  Oh,  Cornelia  is 
usually  up  at  all  sorts  of  unnatural  hours  of  the  day. 
I  expected  when  she  came  here  to  spend  the  week 
with  me,  we  should  have  some  fun,  sitting  up  and  talk 
ing,  but  last  night  is  the  only  time  we  have  had  a  real 
good  talk,  and  I  suppose  that  was  because  we  were  so 
excited  that  even  Cornelia  couldn't  go  to  sleep  at  once. 
I  do  wish  you  could  have  seen  some  of  the  costumes, 
Mr.  Liullow ! " 

Ludlow  began  to  wonder  whether  Cornelia  had  got 


324  THE   COAST   OF   BOHEMIA. 

his  letter,  or  whether,  if  she  had  got  it,  she  had  kept 
the  matter  so  carefully  from  Charmian  that  she  had 
not  suspected  anything  was  wrong.  Or,  what  was 
more  likely,  had  not  Cornelia  cared  ?  Was  she  glad 
to  be  released,  and  had  she  joyfully  hailed  his  letter 
and  its  enclosure  as  a  means  of  escape?  His  brain 
reeled  with  these  doubts,  which  were  the  next  moment 
relieved  with  the  crazy  hope  that  if  his  letter  had  not 
yet  been  delivered,  he  might  recover  it,  and  present 
the  affair  in  the  shape  he  had  now  come  to  give  it. 
He  believed  that  Charmian  must  have  some  motive  for 
what  she  was  doing  and  saying  beyond  the  hospitable 
purpose  of  amusing  him  till  Cornelia  should  appear. 
We  always  think  that  other  people  have  distinct  mo 
tives,  but  for  the  most  part  in  our  intercourse  with  one 
another  we  are  really  as  superficially  intentioned,  when 
we  are  intentioned  at  all,  as  Charmian  was  in  wishing 
to  get  what  sensation  she  could  out  of  the  dramatic 
situation  by  hovering  darkly  over  it,  and  playing  peri 
lously  about  its  circumference.  She  divined  that  he 
was  not  there  to  deepen  its  tragical  tendency  at  least, 
and  she  continued  without  well  knowing  what  she  was 
going  to  say  next :  "  Yes,  I  think  that  the  real  reason 
why  Cornelia  wouldn't  go  in  costume  was  that  she  felt 
that  it  was  a  kind  of  subterfuge.  She  keeps  me  in  a 


THE    COAST   OF   BOHEMIA.  325 

perfect  twitter  of  self-reproach.  I  tell  her  I  would 
rather  have  the  conscience  of  the  worst  kind  of  person 
than  hers ;  I  could  get  along  with  it  a  great  deal 
easier.  Don't  you  think  you  could,  Mr.  Ludlow  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Ludlow  aimlessly.  He  rose  up, 
and  pretended  a  curiosity  about  a  sketch  on  the  wall ; 
he  could  not  endure  to  sit  still. 

"  Won't  you  have  a  cup  of  tea  ?  "  asked  Charmian. 
"  Cornelia  and  I  had  some  last  night,  and  "  — 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Ludlow. 

"  Do  let  me  ring  for  some  coffee,  then  ?  " 

"No,  I  have  just  breakfasted: — that  is,  I  have 
breakfasted  "  — 

"  Why,  were  you  up  early,  too  ?  "  said  Charmian, 
with  what  seemed  to  Ludlow  a  supernatural  shrewd 
ness.  "It's  perfectly  telepathic!  The  Psychical 
Research  ought  to  have  it.  It  would  be  such  fun  if 
we  could  get  together  and  compare  our  reasons  for 
waking  so  early.  But  Cornelia  and  I  didn't  know 
just  when  we  did  wake,  and  I  suppose  the  Psychical 
Research  wouldn't  care  for  it  without.  She  seems  to 
be  writing  a  pretty  long  note,  or  a  pretty  hard  one !  " 
Ludlow  lifted  his  downcast  eyes,  and  gave  her  a  look 
that  was  ghastly.  "Did  you  look  at  your  watch?" 
she  asked. 


326  THE    COAST    OP   BOHEMIA. 

"  Look  at  my  watch  ?  "  he  returned  in  a  daze. 

"  When  you  woke,  that  is." 

«0h!"  he  groaned. 

"  Because  "  — 

Charmian  suddenly  stopped  and  ran  to  the  door, 
which  Cornelia  opened  before  she  could  reach  it. 

Cornelia  gave  her  a  letter.  "  See  if  this  will  do," 
she  said  spiritlessly,  and  Charmian  caught  it  from  her 
hand. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I'll  read  it,"  she  said,  as  she  slipped  out 
of  the  door  and  shut  Cornelia  in. 

Cornelia  saw  Ludlow,  and  made  an  instinctive  move 
ment  of  flight. 

"  For  pity's  sake,  don't  go !  "  he  implored. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  here,"  she  said,  the  same 
dejection  in  her  tone. 

"  No,  they  told  me  you  were  here ;  but  let  me  stay 
long  enough  to  toll  you  —  That  abominable  letter  — 
you  ought  never  to  have  known  that  it  existed.  I 
don't  expect  you  to  forgive  me ;  I  don't  ask  you ;  but 
I  am  so  ashamed ;  and  I  would  do  anything  if  I  could 
recall  —  undo —  Cornelia!  Isn't  there  any  way  of 
atoning  for  it?  Come!  I  don't  believe  a  word  of 
that  scoundrel's.  I  don't  know  what  his  motive  was, 
and  I  don't  care.  Let  it  all  be  as  if  nothing  of  the 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  327 

kind  had  ever  happened.  Dearest,  don't  speak  of  it, 
and  I  never  will !  " 

Cornelia  was  tempted.  She  could  see  how  he  had 
wrought  himself  up  to  this  pitch,  and  she  believed 
that  he  would  keep  his  word ;  we  believe  such  miracles 
of  those  we  love,  before  life  has  taught  us  that  love 
cannot  make  nature  err  against  itself.  In  his  absence 
the  duty  she  had  to  do  was  hard ;  in  his  presence  it 
seemed  impossible,  now  when  he  asked  her  not  to  do 
it.  She  had  not  expected  ever  to  see  him  again,  or  to 
be  tried  in  this  way.  She  had  just  written  it  all  to 
him,  but  she  must  speak  it  now.  She  had  been  weak, 
and  had  brought  on  herself  the  worst  she  had  to  tell, 
and  should  she  be  false,  even  though  he  wished  it,  and 
not  tell  ? 

She  forced  the  words  out  in  a  voice  that  hardly 
seemed  her  own  at  first. 

"  No,  we  made  a  mistake ;  you  did,  and  I  did,  too. 
There  was  something  —  something —  I  wanted  to 
tell  you  at  first,  but  you  wouldn't  let  me,  and  I  was 
glad  you  wouldn't ;  but  it  was  all  wrong,  and  now  I 
have  got  to  tell  you,  when  everything  is  over,  and  it 
can  never  do  any  good."  She  gave  a  dry  sob,  and 
cast  upon  him  a  look  of  keen  reproach,  which  he 
knew  he  deserved.  "I  was  engaged  to  him  once. 


328  THE   COAST   OP   BOHEMIA. 

Or,"  she  added,  as  if  she  could  not  bear  to  see  him 
blench,  "  he  could  think  so.  It  was  the  year  after 
you  were  in  Pymantoning." 

She  went  on  and  told  him  everything.  She  did  not 
spare  herself  any  fact  that  she  thought  he  ought  to 
know,  and  as  she  detailed  the  squalid  history,  it  seemed 
to  her  far  worse  than  it  had  ever  been  in  her  own 
thoughts  of  it. 

He  listened  patiently,  and  at  the  end  he  asked,  "  Is 
that  all?" 

"All?" 

"  Yes.  I  wanted  to  know  just  how  much  you  have 
to  forgive  me."  She  looked  at  him  stupefied.  "  Yes, 
I  ought  to  have  let  you  tell  me  all  this  before,  when 
you  wanted  to,  at  first.  But  I  have  been  a  romantic 
fool,  and  I  have  made  you  suffer  for  my  folly.  I  have 
left  you  to  think,  all  the  time,  that  I  might  care  for 
this ;  that  I  might  not  know  that  you  were  yourself 
through  it  all,  or  that  I  could  care  for  you  any  the  less 
because  of  it,  when  it  only  makes  you  dearer  to 
me." 

"  No !  "  she  said  for  all  protest,  and  he  understood. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  you  were  always  right  in 
it,  or  always  wise ;  but  I  can  truly  say  it  makes  no 
difference  with  me  except  to  make  you  dearer.  If  I 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  329 

had  always  had  more  sense  than  I  had,  you  would 
not  have  to  blame  yourself  for  the  only  wrong  or  un 
wise  thing  you  have  done,  and  I  am  really  to  blame 
for  that." 

She  knew  that  he  meant  her  having  taken  refuge 
from  his  apparen-t  indifference  in  Dickerson,  when 
she  fell  below  her  ideal  of  herself.  This  was  what 
she  had  thought  at  the  time ;  it  was  the  thought  with 
which  she  had  justified  herself  then,  and  she  could  not 
deny  it  now.  She  loved  him  for  taking  her  blame 
away,  and  she  said  to  strengthen  herself  for  her  doom, 
"Well,  it  is  all  over!"  * 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  why  is  it  over  ?  Don't  be  worse 
than  I  was.  Let  us  be  reasonable  about  it !  Why 
shouldn't  we  talk  of  it  as  if  we  were  other  people? 
Do  you  mean  it  is  all  over  because  you  think  I  must 
be  troubled  by  what  you've  told  me,  or  because  you 
can't  forgive  me  for  not  letting  you  tell  me  before  ?  " 

"  You  know  which !  "  she  said. 

"  Well,  then,  what  should  you  think  of  some  other 
man  if  he  could  care  for  such  a  thing,  when  some 
other  girl  had  told  it  him  of  herself?  You  would 
think  him  very  unjust  and  " — 

"  But  it  isn't  some  other  man ;  it  isn't  some  other 
girl!" 


330  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  No,  I'm  glad  it  isn't.  But  can't  we  reason  about 
it  as  if  it  were  ?  " 

"  No,  we  can't.     It  would  be  —  wicked." 

"  It  would  be  wicked  not  to.  Do  you  think  you 
ought  to  break  our  engagement  because  I  didn't  let  you 
tell  me  this  at  first  ?  " 

Cornelia  could  not  say  that  she  did;  she  could 
hardly  say,  "  I  don't  know." 

Ludlow  assumed  that  she  had  said  more.  "  Then 
if  you  don't  think  you  ought  to  do  it  for  that,  do  you 
think  you  ought  to  do  it  for  nothing  ?  " 

"For  nothing?"  Cornelia  asked  herself.  Was 
there  really  nothing  else,  then  ?  She  stood  looking  at 
him,  as  if  she  were  asking  him  that  aloud.  He  was 
not  so  far  off  as  when  they  began  to  talk,  just  after 
they  had  risen,  and  now  he  suddenly  came  much  nearer 
still. 

"Are  you  going  to  drive  me  from  you  because  I 
don't  care  for  all  this  ?  " 

"  You  ought  to  care,"  she  persisted. 

"  But  if  I  don't  ?  If  I  can't  ?  Then  what  is  the 
reason  you  won't  let  it  all  be  as  if  nothing  had  hap 
pened  ?  Ah,  I  see !  You  can't  forgive  me  for  send 
ing  you  his  letter!  Well,  I  deserve  to  be  punished 
for  that!" 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  331 

"  No ;  I  should  have  despised  you  if  you  hadn't "  — 

"  Well  ?-" 

She  was  silent,  looking  at  the  floor.  He  put  his 
arm  round  her,  and  pushed  her  head  down  on  his 
shoulder.  "  Oh,  how  silly  \ "  she  said,  with  lips  muted 
against  his  own. 


XXXIX. 

CORNELIA  and  Ludlow  were  married  at  Py  man  to 
ning  in  the  latter  part  of  June,  and  he  spent  the  sum 
mer  there,  working  at  a  picture  which  he  was  going  to 
exhibit  in  the  fall.  At  the  same  time  he  worked  at  a 
good  many  other  pictures,  and  he  helped  Cornelia 
with  the  things  she  was  trying.  He  painted  passages 
and  incidents  in  her  pictures,  sometimes  illustratively, 
and  sometimes  for  the  pleasure  of  having  their  lives 
blended  in  their  work,  and  he  tried  to  see  how  nearly 
he  could  lose  his  work  in  hers.  He  pretended  that  he 
learned  more  than  he  taught  in  the  process,  and  that 
he  felt  in  her  efforts  a  determining  force,  a  clear  sense 
of  what  she  wanted  to  do,  that  gave  positive  form  and 
direction  to  what  was  vague  and  speculative  in  himself. 
He  was  strenuous  that  she  should  not,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  lapse  from  her  ideal  and  purpose,  or  should 
cease  to  be  an  artist  in  becoming  a  wife.  He  con 
tended  that  there  was  no  real  need  of  that,  and  though 
it  had  happened  in  most  of  the  many  cases  where 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  333 

artists  had  married  artists,  he  held  that  it  had  hap 
pened  through  the  man's  selfishness  and  thoughtless 
ness,  and  not  through  the  conditions.  He  was  re 
solved  that  Cornelia  should  not  lose  faith  in  herself 
from  want  of  his  appreciation,  or  from  her  own  over 
valuation  of  his  greater  skill  and  school ;  and  he 
could  prove  to  any  one  who  listened  that  she  had  the 
rarer  gift.  He  did  not  persuade  her,  with  all  his 
reasons,  but  her  mother  faithfully  believed  him.  It 
had  never  seemed  surprising  to  her  that  Cornelia 
should  win  a  man  like  Ludlow ;  she  saw  no  reason  why 
Cornelia  should  not ;  and  she  could  readily  accept  the 
notion  of  Cornelia's  superiority  when  he  advanced  it. 
She  was  not  arrogant  about  it ;  she  was  simply  and  en 
tirely  satisfied  ;  and  she  was  every  moment  so  content 
with  Cornelia's  husband  that  Cornelia  herself  had  to 
be  a  little  critical  of  him  in  self-defence.  She  called  him 
a  dreamer  and  theorist ;  she  ran  him  down  to  the  Bur 
tons,  and  said  he  would  never  come  to  anything,  be 
cause  artists  who  talked  well  never  painted  so  well. 
She  allowed  that  he  talked  divinely,  and  it  would  not 
have  been  safe  for  Mrs.  Burton  to  agree  with  her 
otherwise  ;  but  Mrs.  Burton  was  far  too  wise  a  woman 
to  do  so.  She  did  not,  perhaps,  ride  so  high  a 
horse  as  Mrs.  Saunders  in  her  praises  of  Ludlow,  but 


384  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

it  would  have  been  as  impossible  to  uuseat  her.  She 
regarded  herself  as  somehow  the  architect  of  Cornelia's 
happiness  in  having  discovered  Ludlow  and  believed 
in  him  long  before  Cornelia  met  him,  and  she  could 
easily  see  that  if  he  had  not  come  out  to  visit  Burton, 
that  first  time,  they  would  never  have  met  at  all. 
Mrs.  Saunders  could  joyfully  admit  this  without  in 
the  least  relinquishing  her  own  belief,  so  inarticulate 
that  it  was  merely  part  of  her  personal  consciousness, 
that  this  happiness  was  of  as  remote  an  origin  as  the 
foundations  of  the  world.  She  could  see,  now,  that 
nothing  else  could  have  been  intended  from  the  begin 
ning,  but  she  did  not  fail  at  the  same  time  to  credit 
herself  with  forethought  and  wisdom  in  bracing  Cor 
nelia  against  the  overtures  of  Dickerson  when  he 
reappeared  in  her  life.  Burton,  of  course,  advanced 
no  claim  to  recognition  in  the  affair.  He  enjoyed 
every  moment  of  Ludlow's  stay  in  Pymantouing,  and 
gave  his  work  a  great  deal  of  humorous  attention  and 
gratuitous  criticism,  especially  the  picture  he  was 
chiefly  engaged  upon.  This,  when  it  was  shown  at 
the  County  Fair,  where  Ludlow  chose  to  enter  it,  be 
fore  he  took  it  back  to  New  York  with  him  in  the 
fall,  did  not  keep  the  crowd  away  from  the  trotting- 
matches,  and  it  did  not  take  either  the  first  or  the 


THE    COAST    OF   BOHEMIA.  335 

second  premium.  In  fact,  if  the  critics  of  the  metrop 
olis  were  right  in  their  judgment  of  it  when  it  appeared 
later  in  the  Academy,  it  did  not  deserve  either  of 
them.  They  said  that  it  was  an  offence  to  those  who 
had  hoped  better  things  of  the  painter  as  time  went  on 
with  him,  and  who  would  now  find  themselves  snubbed 
by  this  return  to  his  worst  manner.  Here,  they  said, 
was  his  palette  again,  with  a  tacit  invitation  to  the 
public  to  make  what  it  liked  of  the  colors,  as  children 
did  with  the  embers  on  the  hearth,  or  the  frost  on  the 
window.  You  paid  your  money  and  you  took  your 
choice  as  to  what  Mr.  Ludlow  meant  by  this  extraor 
dinary  performance,  if  he  really  meant  anything  at 
all. 

As  far  as  it  could  be  made  out  with  the  naked  eye, 
it  represented  a  clump  of  hollyhocks,  with  a  slim, 
shadowy  and  uncertain  young  girl  among  them,  and 
the  painter  had  apparently  wished  to  suggest  a  family 
resemblance  among  them  all.  To  this  end  he  had  em 
phasized  some  facts  of  the  girl's  dress,  accessories  to 
his  purpose,  the  petal-edged  ruffle  of  her  crimson  silk 
waist,  the  flower-like  flare  of  her  red  hat,  and  its  fini- 
als  of  knotted  ribbon ;  and  in  the  hollyhocks  he  had 
recognized  a  girlishness  of  bearing,  which  he  evidently 
hoped  would  appeal  to  a  fantastic  sympathy  in  the 


336  THE   COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

spectator.  The  piece  was  called  "  Hollyhocks  " ;  it 
might  equally  well  be  called  "  Girls,"  though  when 
you  had  called  it  one  or  the  other,  it  would  be  hard  to 
say  just  what  you  were  to  do  about  it,  especially  with 
the  impression  curiously  left  by  the  picture  that 
whether  it  was  a  group  of  girls,  or  a  clump  of  holly 
hocks,  they  were  not  in  very  good  humor.  The  mo 
ment  chosen,  if  one  might  judge  from  some  suggestions 
of  light,  was  that  just  before  the  breaking  of  a  thun 
derstorm  ;  the  girl,  if  it  was  a  girl,  had  flashed  into 
sight  round  the  corner  of  the  house  where  the  holly 
hocks,  if  they  were  hollyhocks,  were  blowing  out 
ward  in  the  first  gust  of  the  storm.  It  could  not  be 
denied  that  there  was  something  fine  in  the  wild  toss 
and  pull  of  the  flowers,  with  the  abandon  of  the  storm 
in  them ;  this  was  the  best  thing  in  the  piece.  It  was 
probably  intended  to  express  a  moment  of  electric  pas 
sion  ;  but  there  was  something  so  forced,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  ineffectual  in  the  execution  of  the  feebly 
fantastic  design,  that  it  became  the  duty  of  impartial 
criticism,  to  advise  Mr.  Ludlow,  if  he  must  continue  to 
paint  at  all,  to  paint  either  girls  or  flowers,  but  not 
both  at  once,  or  both  together,  or  convertibly. 

Ludlow  did  not  mind  these  criticisms  much,  being 
pretty  well  used  to  that  kind  of  thing,  and  feeling  secure 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  337 

of  his  public  in  any  event ;  but  Cornelia  was  deeply 
vexed.  She  knew  that  it  must  be  evident  to  those 
who  knew  her  and  knew  him  that  she  was  the  girl  and 
she  was  the  hollyhocks,  and  though  the  origin  of  the 
picture  was  forever  hid  in  the  memories  of  their  first 
meeting,  she  was  aware  of  a  measure  of  justice  in  the 
censure  that  condemned  it  for  obscurity.  She  had  not 
wished  him  to  show  it,  but  here,  as  often  elsewhere, 
she  found  him  helpless  to  yield  to  her,  even  though  he 
confessed  that  she  was  right.  He  did  not  try  to  jus 
tify  himself,  and  he  did  not  explain  himself  very 
clearly.  "I  don't  know  how  it  is  about  one's  work, 
exactly.  Up  to  a  certain  point  you  are  master  over  it, 
and  it  seems  to  belong  absolutely  to  you ;  but  beyond 
that  it  is  its  own  master  and  does  what  it  pleases  with 
itself.  Of  course  I  could  have  kept  from  showing  that 
picture,  and  yet  —  I  must." 

"  Well,  at  least,  then,  you  can  keep  from  selling  it," 
said  Cornelia.  "  I  want  it ;  give  it  to  me." 

"  My  dear,  I  will  buy  it  for  you.  Mrs.  Maybough 
became  the  owner  of  the  picture,  yesterday,  but  I  will 
offer  her  an  advance  on  the  price  she  paid." 

Cornelia  now  thought  she  was  really  angry  with  him 
for  the  first  time  since  their  marriage.  She  would  not 

speak  at  once,  but  when  she  did  speak,  it  was  to  say, 
22 


338  THE    COAST    OF1   BOHEMIA. 

"No,  let  her  keep  it.  I  know  Charmian  made  her 
buy  it,  and  I  wouldn't  like  to  take  it  from  her.  She 
has  so  much  imagination  that  maybe  she  can  see  some 
meaning  in  it,  and  it  will  always  be  such  a  pleasure  to 
her  to  explain  it,  even  if  she  can't." 

Charmian  made  the  Ludlows  a  Bohemian  dinner  as 
soon  as  the  people  whom  she  wanted  got  back  to  town. 
She  said  it  was  a  Bohemian  dinner,  and  she  asked 
artists,  mostly;  but  of  course  she  had  the  Westleys 
and  their  friend  Mrs.  Rangeley.  There  were  several 
of  the  Synthesis  girls,  who  said  the  Synthesis  would 
never  be  itself  again  without  Cornelia,  and  there  were 
dome  of  the  students,  nice  fellows,  whom  Charmian 
had  liked;  there  were,  of  course,  the  Wetmores. 
Ludlow's  picture  was  in  evidence  in  a  place  of  honor, 
especially  created  for  it,  and  Wetmore  said,  when  they 
sat  down  at  dinner,  "  Well,  Ludlow,  all  this  company 
can  tell  where  you  got  your  hollyhocks."  Cornelia 
turned  the  color  of  the  reddest  in  the  picture,  and 
Wetmore  recognized  her  consciousness  with  the  added 
remark,  "  Oh,  you'll  be  in  all  his  imaginative  pictures, 
now,  Mrs.  Ludlow.  That's  the  fate  of  the  wife  of  an 
imaginative  painter*  But  you  really  must  get  him  to 
keep  you  out  of  his  portraits." 

Charmian  checked  herself  in  a  wild  laugh,  and  sent 


THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA.  339 

Cornelia  a  look  of  fond  and  proud  intelligence,  which 
Mrs.  Rangeley  tapped,  as  it  were,  on  its  way  up  the 
length  of  the  table.  "  O  Mrs.  Ludlow ! "  she  en 
treated.  "What  is  itf?  I  hope  it  isn't  professional 
envy !  Is  he  afraid  of  Mr.  Ludlow  becoming  too  pop 
ular?" 

Ludlow  answered  for  his  wife,  "Mrs.  Rangeley, 
that  was  worthy  even  of  you,"  and  he  boldly  kissed 
his  hand  to  her. 

The  dinner  was  remembered  for  several  weeks  as 
one  of  the  pleasantest  people  had  ever  been  at,  and  it 
established  Mrs.  Maybough  in  such  social  acceptance 
that  she  was  asked  to  the  first  of  the  Westley  dinners, 
where  swells  prevailed,  and  where  she  was  as  null  as 
any  of  them.  But  although  Charmian  was  apparently 
radiant  the  whole  evening,  and  would  hardly  let  Cor 
nelia  go  away  at  the  end,  she  wanted  her  to  stay  so 
and  talk  it  over,  she  had  a  girl's  perverseness  in  not 
admitting  the  perfection  of  the  occasion  to  Mrs.  May- 
bough,  when  she  said,  "  Well,  my  dear,  I  hope  your 
dinner  was  Bohemian  enough  for  you." 

"  Bohemian !  "  she  retorted.  "  It  wasn't  Bohemian 
at  all.  You  oughtn't  to  have  taken  the  ladies  away  at 
coffee.  They  ought  to  have  stayed  and  had  cigarettes 
with  the  gentlemen." 


340  THE    COAST    OF    BOHEMIA. 

"  My  dear,  you  know  that  the  mere  smell  of  tobacco 
makes  you  sick !  " 

"  No  matter,  I  should  —  if  I  could  only  have  seen 
Cornelia  Ludlow  smoking  —  I  should  have  been  will 
ing  to  die.  And  now  —  now,  I'm  afraid  she's  going  to 
be  perfectly  respectable ! " 


BY  CONSTANCE  F.  WOOLSON 


MENTONE,    CAIRO,    AND   CORFU.      Illustrated. 

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Tribune. 

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— New  Orleans  Picayune. 

For  swiftly  graphic  stroke,  for  delicacy  of  appreciative  coloring,  and 

for  sentimental  suggest!  veness,  it  would  be  hard  to  rival  Miss  U'oolson's 

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THE  STORY  OF  BABETTE  :  A  Little  Creole  Girl. 
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Mrs.  Stuart  is  one  of  some  half-dozen  American  writers 
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nary  ;  but,  after  all,  it  is  not  the  dialect  that  constitutes  the 
chief  value  of  her  work.  That  will  be  found  in  its  genuine 
ness,  lighted  up  as  it  is  by  superior  intelligence  and  imagina 
tion  and  delightful  humor. — Chicago  Tribune. 

Mrs.  Stuart  is  a  genuine  humorist. — N.  Y.  Mail  and  Jfxpres*. 

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Mr.  Matthews  writes  as  a  student  of  life  and  a  cultivated  man  of 
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